Date: Mon, 3 Mar 1997 15:26:41 +0000
From: "Denise A. Agnew" <writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk>
Subject: [XFF] (1/13) My Deadly Valentine

Important Note: Please do not sent to axtc, I'll do that myself.
Archives please let me know you're archiving this story. Thanks
very much.

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program
"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox
Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without
permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Classification: X, UST, A, MSR (titters on the edge, I guess you could
say :))

Summary: An anonymous Valentine card has decidedly strange, and
dangerous implications for Mulder.

Acknowledgments: Thanks go to Carey Regenold for medical information.

My Deadly Valentine(1/13)
by Denise A. Agnew
writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk

Somewhere in the Washington, DC area.
Wednesday, 6:00pm

Standing in plain sight of anyone that would care to look up and
see her, the tall woman in the pale pink suit watched the handsome man
sit on the bench in the park. She'd been watching him forever, and
shifted from one impatient foot to the other.

Everything about him was tantalizing. From the burnished copper
of his hair, and the strength in his tall, strong body. She was
itching to touch him, if only for the few moments it would take to
make him hers.

Forever.

She needed him.

Wanted him forever.

Wishing to make him happy in the way only she could.

Infinity was a long time to wait for a lover. A very lengthy
process to turn a man's needs into a dream come true. An exciting
adventure that stirred his heart and his blood.

Blood.

She liked the word. So visceral. What other word looked,
sounded and tasted so much like its name? She licked her lips
and the tangy, salty flavor in her imagination delighted her.

For several moments the man rubbed a finger absently over the
envelope as if he treasured this special treat and didn't want it to
end soon. He looked almost hopeful, perhaps excited as he opened the
envelope slowly. As if he was afraid something would jump out of it
and bite him.

She smiled.

Little did he know how close he was to being right.

When he slipped the pale, cream colored card from the envelope,
she saw his mouth open slightly in surprise or awe.

Well, it was pretty. And that's what mattered. A flawless,
lovely presentation.

Quickly the man rose from the park bench and headed in the
direction of her hotel.

With a blink of her eye she followed him, not too close, not too
far away. Wouldn't want to frighten him off when the fun was just
beginning.

There was plenty of time later for scaring him. Plenty of time.

FBI Headquarters
Basement
Thursday, 7:00am

Special Agent Dana Scully sorted through the mail on her desk.
It was a huge stack, and she was sure almost half of it were things
Mulder could have taken care of himself while she was on vacation in
Hawaii for two weeks.

After tossing aside a piece of junk mail, she stopped abruptly.
A large, cream colored envelope with a border of red hearts stared
back at her. The weight of the card was heavy. Like the three dollar
type you bought when you really wanted to impress someone.

On the envelope, in a flourish of fancy handwriting, was Mulder's
name.

My Darling Fox.

Her eyebrows went up. Whoa.

The envelope reminded her immediately that tomorrow was
Valentine's Day. The season for hearts, flowers, chocolate, and
sickeningly sweet sentiment. At least lately that's what she'd felt
about the holiday. She smiled. Since there was no stamp or post mark
on the envelope she assumed someone in the bureau had sent him the
card. What had he been doing while she was gone?

"Mail for you, Mulder," she said absently and set the card to the
side while she thumbed through more envelopes.

When she didn't receive a reply, she glanced up at her partner,
and watched his fingers fly over the keys of his computer. A line of
deep concentration creased his forehead, and he reached up to swipe
impatiently at a lock of hair that toppled over his forehead. She
knew that after several hours of searching through his database, he
was no closer to finding what he needed on a particular alien
abduction case.

"The Martians have landed on the front lawn of the White House,"
she said.

No response.

"Agent Pendrell sent me a teddy for Valentine's Day."

Mulder's fingers stopped moving instantly, and he looked up at
her. A slow smile spread across his mouth. "Was that teddy as in
Winnie The Poo, or as in lacy, silky material teddy?"

She smiled back and tossed him the envelope with the hearts on it
and he caught it like a Frisbee. "How long has this mail been piling
up, Mulder?"

"Probably since you left on vacation," he said, turning his chair
toward her and looking at the envelope. "Why?"

"What would you like for me to do first? Shoot you, strangle you,
or put poison in your next cup off coffee?"

"Poison. Harder to detect and not as messy. Hmm, I wonder who
this could be from?"

"Opening it might help."

He grabbed his letter opener and cut open the envelope. "Scully,
do I detect a bit of venom in your voice? I thought you enjoyed your
vacation?"

"I was in a perfectly good mood until I saw this gargantuan stack
of mail on my desk. Next time, Mulder, open the mail," she said with
a straight face. "Well, I guess that explains why you missed my
wedding on Maui." She lifted up another envelope, this one red, and
waved it in the air. "Here's the invitation."

Mulder ignored her and gazed at the pale pink card in his hand.
He titled an eyebrow and whistled. "Interesting. Scully, look at
this." He shoved off with his feet and his chair did a quick roll
across the space between their desks, and he barely stopped himself
from plowing into Scully. He handed her the card. "This is plain
weird."

She sighed and looked at the front of the card. Embossed with a
pattern of cream hearts and baskets of flowers, the card was beautiful.
Someone had certainly gone all out for Mulder. She felt a twinge of
something deep inside, but wouldn't acknowledge it. Valentine's Day
wasn't something she celebrated with Mulder. At least, not together.
On the front, in shimmering cellophane red letters, it said, Be My
Valentine.

"Only you could turn a simple Valentine into an X-File, Mulder."

"Open it."

Inside the card was a poem, hand written in a dash of red
lettering.

"Be my valentine, my valentine, be my love so true, I know that I
am yours and you are mine. Forever we are two." Scully looked up at
Mulder. "Corny but cute. What's wrong with it?"

"Doesn't the lettering look funny to you?"

Staring at the lettering carefully, she noticed the rusty nuance
of the ink. "Strange ink."

When she looked up, he took the card from her hands and stared at
it again. He wasn't smiling.

"Blood. It's written in blood, Scully."

End of Part One

My Deadly Valentine (2/13)

FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
Basement
Thursday, 7:10am

"Blood?" Scully asked sharply, snatching the card from Mulder's
hand.

She examined the carefully executed letters on the thick paper of
the card. The letters appeared to be written in something that looked
like dried blood. She'd never seen anything like this, and the
implications chilled her. Brushing aside the tingle that raced across
her skin like an ice cube, she asked, "Who did you manage to offend
while I was on vacation?"

Mulder grinned. "Skinner wasn't too pleased with me a couple of
times. Hell, he wouldn't even send me a descent X-File while you were
away. Said he worried that if you weren't with me I'd do something
foolish like shoot off my foot."

"A distinct possibility."

"Your confidence in me is gratifying, Scully."

"Don't mention it."

Mulder tipped his chair back, and she wondered how many more
times he could do that before the chair finally gave way.

"Anyone else who might want to play a practical joke on you and
send something written in blood?" she asked.

"Well, I know I hacked off Frohicke."

"What did you do?"

He grinned and leaned a little closer to her. One dark eyebrow
cocked upwards. "Told him you and I went to Hawaii together."

She sighed. "You didn't."

"Did."

Thinking about the ramifications of taking a vacation with Mulder
distracted her momentarily from the valentine. "Wonderful, he'll
probably spread rumors around the bureau by way of his conspiracy web
page on the Internet."

"It's a good way to throw the powers-that-be off our tails for
awhile. Throw them a curve and they won't be so interested in what
we're doing the next time an alien abduction case comes our way."

"Let's hope Frohicke didn't believe a word you said."

Grinning, he retrieved the card from her again and caressed the
side of the paper with a long index finger. "He believed me at first.
You should have seen his face. But imagine him putting together a
card like this. I doubt it."

She didn't have to imagine it. Frohicke was one of the last
people on earth who would be creative enough to send this grotesque
Valentine. Then who did?

"Maybe you should have the card analyzed, Mulder."

"Why? It's a prank. Probably a dozen other agents received this
card today. One of the women in word processing is pissed off at
Agent Baxter and vowed to get even. Maybe this is her way to get back
at all the wayward male agents prowling the bureau."

Not entirely convinced, she watched him peruse the card a little
longer before she looked at the red envelope she'd tossed aside when
she'd mentioned her fictional wedding on Maui.

As she touched the envelope, she an irrational thread of
apprehension stayed her hand. What if this card proclaimed the same
intentions as Mulder's valentine? Carefully crafted and designed in
blood. Then, as she looked at the card in her hand, she recognized
the writing. Bold, blocky letters.

Scully.

Simple. To the point. No sentiment. Mulder's handwriting.

She didn't want to open it right now, because she hadn't gotten
him a card, and until that moment hadn't planned to get him one,
either. This was the first time he'd given her anything on
Valentine's Day, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Since he'd cornered her in the car on their last case and forced
her to reassess her feelings, she'd been determined she wouldn't let
her hormones or Mulder's get in the way of their professional lives.
Nothing had really happened, but there had been a quality in Mulder's
eyes that was far from brotherly. More potent. More disturbing.

All week, since she'd returned from vacation, she'd prayed that
bizarre attraction she'd felt for him would have disappeared after two
weeks of sun, fun, and Mai Tai's on the beach.

Wrong answer.

She was far too aware of him in every way. Although her vacation
had healed some of the feelings of betrayal she'd felt when Lucien
Gray had turned on her, her mind set about Mulder was far from
resolved.

But her feelings would have to remain that way. Where they
belonged. Locked away by her superego's need for order and
consistency. Getting mushy over Mulder was not in the interests of
their professional relationship, or the bureau's interests. End of
discussion. Kaput.

"Open it, Scully," Mulder said, startling her. His eyes sparkled
for a moment, as if he was enjoying her discomfort, her uncertainty as
she stared at the envelope.

She looked at him, and then set aside the card. "I've got work
to do. I'll look at it later."

"I think my feelings are hurt."

"Get over it. Take your valentine to Pendrell and get it checked
out."

Mulder shook his head. "All right. I'm sure Pendrell will be
interested in telling me what type of blood this is."

"I think you ought to take this seriously, Mulder."

"It's probably nothing."

She looked up from the pile of mail as yet unopened. "If it was
any other card I wouldn't worry."

"What do you mean?"

"Writing in blood is sick. Whoever did this could be out to do
more than play a prank on you."

A knock on the door surprised them both. The door opened slowly,
and a young woman with thick, straight, shiny brown hair peeked around
the door.

Her thin face made it difficult to guess how old she might be,
but Scully thought she was around twenty-four. Model thin, she looked
like a waif.

"Hi, Peg," Mulder said, turning his chair in her direction and
standing up to go to the young woman. "What brings you down to the
inner sanctum?"

Looking hesitant, the young woman opened the door all the way and
stepped into the room. Her long, slim legs covered the room quickly,
and Scully was slightly surprised by the bright white and blue poke a
dot suit the woman was wearing. The vivid blue dazzled the eyes,
fixing attention on the clothing rather than the woman wearing them.

When Mulder smiled the woman held out a manila folder to him.
Their fingers involuntarily brushed, and the young lady's features
reddened slightly. "Assistant Director Skinner sent me down with this
file."

Mulder then turned to Scully. "Thanks. Scully, have you met Peg
Galley? She's a new secretary in Skinner's office. She started a
couple of days after you left on vacation."

Scully exchanged pleasantries with the woman for a moment. "I
hope you enjoy working here."

"I've always wanted to work for the FBI." Peg's gaze darted from
one side of the dimly lit room to the other. "Frankly, when Mr.
Skinner asked me to come down here, I was kind of excited. I've
heard so much about both of you."

Scully noted the slow smile Peg gave Mulder, and wondered if he
was the one generating the young woman's interest more than what she'd
heard about the X-Files.

"Don't be a stranger," Mulder said. "We don't get many visitors
down here."

Peg grinned, and her pristine smile landed directly on him.
"Sounds great." Suddenly, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, gosh.
I've got to go. I'm getting the full tour of the facility today
and I don't want to be late."

Still beaming at Mulder, Peg managed to turn to Scully as she
started out the door. "It was really nice meeting you. Bye."

After the door closed quietly behind Peg, Scully turned to
Mulder. "She's just now getting a tour of the building?"

He shrugged. "Probably. You know how it works. I'm sure you
remember the better-late-then-never tour." Mulder stood up. "I'm
taking this Valentine to the lab. See you later."

When the door swung closed, Scully waited several moments before
she looked once again at the Valentine Mulder had given her.

During her vacation she'd resigned herself to getting a life,
finding something more to occupy her time than the X-Files and Fox
Mulder.

Trouble was that most things faded in comparison to the day she'd
met Mulder. Everything paled in contrast to working next to a man
whose many sides puzzled and intrigued her more each day. Maybe that
was what she'd seen gleaming in Peg Galley's eyes. Fascination.
Curiosity. How many other women had been seduced into trying to
decipher the light that burned brightly in his eyes?

Thoroughly disgusted with the vein of her thoughts, she tossed the
Valentine aside and tackled the paperwork that awaited her attention.

FBI Headquarters
Thursday, 9:00am

Mulder was halfway back to his office when his cell phone chirped.
He pulled it out of his pocket. "Mulder."

"You'd better get down here." Scully's voice was crisp, sharp.
As if his mother was telling him he'd been a very bad boy. "Skinner
called about ten minutes ago. A body's been discovered just outside
DC. It's Special Agent Carl Daggert."

"Oh, my God." He felt the blood rush from his face, and a
feeling of dread settled in his stomach. Not Carl. Cheerful,
laid back, competent Carl. Mulder quickened his steps.

Scully sighed, as if weary. "Police found a piece of evidence
you'll be very interested in, Mulder. They found a valentine laying
next to his body. It looks exactly like the one you received today."

End of Part Two

My Deadly Valentine (3/13)

A Field Outside Washington, DC
Thursday, 2:00pm

Mulder knelt next to the body of Agent Carl Daggert and felt his
stomach roll and shift. He was used to seeing bodies mangled and
otherwise subjected to various indignities. But the sight of a fellow
agent in this condition was startling, as if agents were protected
somehow against the vagaries of crime. Mulder couldn't remember the
last time he'd become ill looking at a body, but if it was going to
happen, this seemed to be the time. Taking a deep breath, he closed
his eyes and attempted to get his bearings back. Now was no time to
be weak.

Carl's chest had been penetrated so many times by a knife that it
looked like a pin cushion. One strike had punctured his heart.

Flipping the sheet over Carl, Mulder closed his eyes again. Then
he opened his eyes and looked up at Scully.

She stood on the other side of the body, writing in her notebook.
Stone faced and efficient, any upset she might have felt looking at
Carl was carefully controlled and invisible. At least, it was
indiscernible to anyone but Mulder. After four years of working
together there wasn't much she attempted to hide from him.

Like proverbial deep pools of blue, her eyes darkened at the
sight of the bloody mass on the ground. Her mouth was tight, turned
down with grim determination, as if she was in the dentist chair
awaiting a root canal.

Something else was bothering her, however. She'd been quiet
during their whole ride to the murder site, and he was getting that
uneasy sensation again. The one that said he'd stepped on her toes
and didn't know how he'd done it.

Maybe her vacation hadn't solved anything. Her horrifying
experience with Lucien would take time to heal. What he didn't like
was wondering if the scare Lucien had given her meant she wouldn't
trust again. Allowing himself to wallow in a little self-
recrimination, Mulder wondered if his antics in Colorado had
permanently damaged his relationship with Scully.

She'd seemed grateful for the birthday party he'd thrown for her
when they'd arrived back in Washington, DC, but now the veil was down
again, and he didn't know how to get passed it.

Wrestling his obstinate thoughts back to the task at hand he
said, "Penny for your thoughts."

"Whoever did this to Carl was very strong," she said, flipping
her notebook closed.

He pulled the sheet away from the body again to expose the deep
knife wounds to the man's chest cavity and lower abdomen. "And very,
very angry."

"Didn't you say Carl was a weight lifter?" Scully asked.

"Yes. But there are no signs of a struggle."

"He knew his assailant."

"Most likely." Mulder put the sheet back and retrieved an
evidence bag from his coat pocket. "But what were they doing out
here in the middle of a field."

She sighed. "Maybe it was an informant. A snitch who didn't
want to be seen talking to a Federal Agent."

"Very possible."

Her gaze landed on the bloodied sheet, and he could have sworn he
saw her shudder. "That could have been one of us."

Worry creased his brow, and he almost reached out to her. But
the plastic gloves on his hands had been in contact with Carl's body,
and the idea of touching Scully with them didn't feel right.

"But it wasn't one of us," he said.

Dragging her gaze up to Mulder, she asked, "Have you looked at
the card?"

Gingerly grasping the valentine that lay next to Carl's head, he
looked at the outside of the card. Splattered with blood and damp
with dew, the Valentine was a disturbing directive. What the message
was, however, Mulder wasn't sure. He gazed up at Scully, but the
watery sun got in his eyes and he squinted. "It's definitely the same
type of card as the one I received this morning. Soggy, but the
same."

"Even the corny saying on the inside is identical."

Opening the card he read the inside. "The only thing that varies
is the lettering. Although it's the same handwriting, the letters
look a little more rushed and the lines aren't as straight."

Scully squatted next to Mulder. "Do you have any idea who might
want to do this to Carl?"

He put the card into the evidence bag and sealed it. "No. Carl
was a sincere, nice kind of guy. But sincere, nice guys get killed
all the time. Did Skinner say anything about a case Carl was working
on? One that might have gone bad?"

She shook her head. "Not a word." She stood up. "Maybe we
can get permission to look through Carl's office."

"Excellent idea. When you're done here we'll head back to the
office and see if Pendrell has come up with an analysis on the blood
on my card," he said. Slowly peeling the latex gloves off his hands,
he started back toward his car.

"Where are you going?" Scully asked.

"To call Carl's partner, Mike Trevino. I want to know why he
isn't here right now."

Agent Carl Daggert's Office
FBI Headquarters
Thursday, 4:00pm

Mulder sifted through the small stack of neatly ordered files on
Carl's desk. Behind him he could hear Scully opening another drawer
in the file cabinet and leafing through a file.

"This is going to take forever, Mulder."

He glanced at the small clock on Carl's desk. "Pendrell's
expecting us in forty-five minutes, so if we don't find anything in
that time, we might as well give up for the day. We can always come
back to it. Besides, we still have the drive to Arlington tonight to
talk to Carl's partner."

"You may need to see Carl's partner without me. I need to attend
the autopsy."

"Yum, yum," Mulder said.

Finding nothing of immediate interest on top of the desk, Mulder
opened a small side drawer. Inside was a daily planner. Checking
through the most recent dates, he found something listed for last
Thursday that intrigued him. "Hey, Scully, look at this."

She walked over to the desk and looked at where Mulder was
pointing with his index finger. "Meeting with Angel at Antone's
Place at 7:00pm. That's a restaurant not far from here."

Mulder turned forward to Wednesday of this week. The day Carl
was murdered. "Meeting with Angel at Antone's Place at 12:00pm.
Looks like Carl had a social life."

"Are there any entries in this book before last week that show
him meeting with this Angel person?"

Mulder shook his head. "Not a one. Maybe Angel would be able to
tell us just what happened to Carl."

"Sounds like we need to schedule a stop at Antoine's, too" Scully
said.

Mulder grimaced. "I hate Antoine's. Worst Italian food on the
planet."

She smiled. "Short of your spaghetti, Mulder?"

He returned her smile, happy to see a twinkle in her eyes. To
see that expression in her eyes, he'd take any insult. "Short of
about anything I'd cook."

"I didn't say you had to eat anything," she said, and moved back
to the file cabinet.

After a couple of minutes, Scully looked over at Carl's partner
Agent Mike Trevino's desk. The temptation to go through his desk was
powerful. She shook her head. That would be unethical, and there was
probably nothing there that could explain Carl's gruesome demise.

Several minutes later, she heard a rustling sound to her left and
turned to see Mulder methodically looking through papers on Agent
Trevino's desk.

She slammed the file drawer and walked toward him. "What are you
doing?"

"Going through Trevino's desk."

"I can see that. We have no business touching Agent Trevino's
things."

He continued to sort through papers on the desk. "There's no
'we' about it Scully. If anyone comes in, you can blame it all on
me."

"That shouldn't be difficult."

Mulder found Agent Trevino's desk calendar and began looking
through it.

"What are you hoping to find, Mulder?"

"I'm not sure." He flipped through the pages until he reached
the last week in January, then he paused. "Bingo. I think Agent
Trevino is going to be able to help us catch Carl's killer."

She looked at the calendar closely until she came upon the item
he'd stopped at. "Valentine received. So Agent Trevino received a
Valentine a little early. How is that significant?"

"Look at this," Mulder said, pointing to an entry a week later.
"This is a week before Carl's first apparent meeting with Angel."

She read the entry. "Angel sent me another card. Set up
meeting. Caution."

He thumbed through the pages until he reached Valentine's Day.
"Meet with Angel at Antoine's." He looked up at Scully. "Sounds
like Angel is a two timin' lady."

Agent Pendrell's Lab Area
FBI Headquarters
Thursday, 4:40pm

Agent Pendrell smiled at Scully and offered her a seat, but she
declined politely. "I don't think we'll be here that long."

Mulder observed Agent Pendrell's slightly crestfallen look with
barely disguised amusement. The poor man's case of puppy love for
Scully never seemed to diminish.

"Sorry to hear that. We don't get to see you down here very
often, Agent Scully," Pendrell said. He glanced at Mulder. "All
we get is Mulder."

The urge to tease the agent ever present, Mulder jumped into the
fray. "I keep her pretty busy."

Scully frowned at Mulder. "With case loads."

"I heard you had an excellent vacation," Pendrell said.

"We had a great time," Mulder said, the words slipping out of
his mouth easily.

Scully shot Mulder a looked that would have seared the sides off
a side of beef. Instead of replying, though, her mouth opened and
closed like a fish a couple of times. Then she grinned and said
nothing. Momentarily surprised that she had no come back, Mulder
gazed at her intently. Then he realized that she wouldn't break
Pendrell's illusion that she might have gone with Mulder on vacation
if it meant keeping Pendrell at arm's length.

Pendrell pulled out the computer report with the blood analysis
and placed it in front of Mulder and Scully. "There were no
fingerprints. The blood type on your card is AB."

"Rare type," Mulder said unnecessarily.

"The blood was mixed with a strange substance I'm having trouble
identifying," Pendrell said.

"Was the substance used as an anticoagulant?" Scully asked.

"It appears so," Pendrell said, pointing to figures on the papers
in front of her. "Blood takes within three to five minutes to clot.
With the time it took for this person to write the letters so
precisely the blood would've started to dry, making it difficult to
complete the writing. Whoever did this must have some chemistry or
medical knowledge."

"How long before you figure out what the mysterious substance is?"
Mulder asked.

"I'm not sure. I'll work on it at the same time I analyze this
other card's blood sample." Pendrell ran his hand over his chin.
"There's something strange about this anticoagulant, though."

"What is it?" Scully asked.

"Well, outside of being difficult to identify, it's almost as
if the blood itself was significantly altered by mixing with the
chemical."

"Wouldn't that be normal?" Mulder asked.

"Yes and no." Pendrell shifted in his seat, his gaze resting
first on Scully, then on Mulder. "The chemical changed the blood
type. Completely altered its structure. It's entirely possible that
this blood was another type before it came into contact with this
element."

End of Part Three

My Deadly Valentine (4/13)

FBI Headquarters
Basement
Thursday, 5:00pm

"It's not possible, Mulder," Scully said as they walked back to
their office after visiting with Pendrell. "Blood does not change from
one type to another when mixed with an anticoagulant. Pendrell must
have made a mistake."

"What about those machines that have been invented recently to
convert any blood into universal type O?"

"The technology won't be readily available in most hospitals
until sometime next year, if even then. And that has nothing to do
with anticoagulant. Unwanted sugar molecules are washed from the
blood in order to change blood to type O."

He shrugged. "Let's wait and see if the blood on the card that
was found next to Carl displays similar structural changes before we
say it's not possible."

"Whoever drew those letters would have to have a lot of blood."

"Not a very appetizing thought."

As the sound of their footsteps echoed in the long corridor,
Mulder said, "I'm starving. You want to get something to eat
before we go our separate ways?"

"I never eat before an autopsy."

"But you have to eat sometime. We can't have you turning into a
cracker butt."

She paused at the door to their office and looked up at him. She
found it difficult to think straight when he was inspecting her with
that cocky, almost predatory look. "Cracker butt, Mulder?"

"Yeah, you know. Skinny. Emaciated. Cracker butt."

His gazed scanned her thoroughly, running from the top of her
copper colored hair to her black pumps, and she felt a blush rising to
her face. His examination ended back at her face. Usually not one to
retreat from a stare down game, she looked deep into his eyes.

Big mistake.

For a moment she even forgot her own name.

She licked her lips. "I love food far too much. There's no
danger of me ever becoming a cracker butt."

He leaned his forearm against the closed door to their office.
"Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day, Scully?"

Amazed at the way his mind skipped from one subject to another
without always a logical transition, she didn't reply immediately.

"There's Skinner's party at noon tomorrow, but with this case I'm
not sure there will be time."

He shrugged. "Guess we'll have to wait and see. Don't you have
a date or plans for dinner tomorrow night?"

"No."

"Then I have an idea. Let's go out to eat someplace nice
tomorrow night. I think we deserve something special for a change,
don't you?"

Startled by his suggestion, she once again didn't know how to
reply right away. Finally, she said, "We'll see how the case goes,
Mulder."

He seemed happy with that. He stepped into their office and
headed for the closet to retrieve his coat, Scully following close
behind. Hastily, she put her own coat on, then walked over to her
desk.

Mulder glanced at the coffee pot. Two cups of the dark brew were
left, and he tried to remember when they'd actually made the stuff.

When he couldn't remember he shrugged and grabbed his thermal
coffee cup and loaded it with the strong liquid. He tasted the coffee
and winced. It bit his tongue, but it would keep him alert on the
drive. Walking passed his desk, he almost missed seeing the large red
envelope lying there.

He lifted the envelope in pleasant anticipation, thinking maybe
Scully had gotten him a Valentine after all. But when had she slipped
it onto his desk? They'd been together all day.

My Darling Fox.

A skitter of apprehension did a crawl up his spine. Unless
Scully was playing a trick on him, he didn't like the implication
behind this Valentine. He opened the envelope slowly, feeling almost
as if something would jump out at him if he looked into the envelope
too quickly. Pulling out the Valentine, he noted the heavy white
stock paper and the bright red letters on the front. 'Be My Love.'
He opened the card and saw the letters made of blood. 'Your love hath
made me whole. That we should be together for eternity is my pledge.
My undying love forever. Meet me at Antoine's at twelve tomorrow.
Your loving Angel.'

"Looks like Skinner's party is off, Scully."

She looked up at him as he walked toward her holding out the
Valentine. "What?"

"Angel and I have a date."

She took the Valentine from him and scanned the words quickly.
"This isn't good."

"I'd say it's excellent. If I meet with Angel tomorrow I may
find out more about Carl's murder."

She shook her head. "Or end up just like him. Maybe I should go
with you to Arlington tonight, Mulder."

"Why?"

"Because if this Angel is following you around it could be
dangerous."

"We don't know for certain if Angel is the killer. It's entirely
possible that another culprit killed Carl. Maybe a jealous boyfriend
of Angel's."

"Okay, Mulder. Do you think you can get back in one piece
without me?"

He crossed his heart with his fingers. "Cross my heart and hope
to die, Scully."

She frowned. "I still say whoever wrote this is responsible for
Carl's death."

"Based on what?"

"It's what I feel."

"The enigmatic Dr. Scully tackling a case with her feelings?
Since when?"

He knew immediately his words were a mistake, but like all words
spoken there was no way to take them back.

She handed him back the card. "Since I came back from Salem,
Colorado."

Her horrifying experience in Salem had obviously made a distinct
mark on his partner's psyche. More than once since that time he
wondered how much longer she was going to withstand taking on bizarre
cases with him. When were the unusual things they'd seen and
experienced going to wear her down? He had to remind himself that she
was not made of glass.

Although Lucien had put a dent in her ability to trust others,
there had been far worse cases in their backyard before. Then why did
it bother him so much now that she wasn't happy? For the first time
his own obsessions with finding Samantha and nailing the people
responsible for her disappearance paled in comparison to his desire to
see that Scully was happy. Part of him was terrified she'd be taken
away from him again and this time it would be for good. All his petty
concerns and driving forces meant nothing if Scully wasn't there to
share it with him.

"I'll get this card back to the lab before I go to Arlington," he
said.

She looked at her watch. "It's getting late. She took the
Valentine out of his hand. "I'll take it. It's on my way."

She looked down at the Valentine Mulder had given her. Maybe if
she ignored it, the envelope would disappear.

"Aren't you ever going to open it?" he asked.

"I'm waiting until Valentine's Day."

He looked at his watch. "It's exactly five hours until February
fourteenth. I won't be offended if you open it early."

Apparently, however, she wasn't inclined to take him up on the
suggestion. She firmly tightened the belt on her coat and started for
the door. "I'd better hurry. I'm going to be late for the autopsy."

"Scully."

She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him.

"Call me when you return from the autopsy."

She nodded, then she was gone.

Staring at the door, he wondered why he'd felt he'd lost
something. Something he might never get back.

Outside FBI Headquarters
5:30pm

She watched Mulder leave the building from her safe vantage
point. Her uneasiness was growing.

Maybe he was like all the others. Carl and Mike had proven
themselves unworthy of her love, why should Mulder be any different.
After all, he was a man.

But Fox Mulder had to be different. He was tall, handsome, and
could be trusted. Couldn't he?

Agent Scully might be a problem. She'd seen the way Mulder
looked at Agent Scully when he thought no one else would see. She'd
speculated long and hard over those gazes upon his partner and hadn't
decided if they were friends or if something else was going on between
them.

She frowned and watched Mulder disappear into the parking
structure. Carl had been tall, handsome and her perfect man
until she'd seen him with that bitch in the cafeteria this week.

Mike had a girlfriend, too, and that was simply not tolerable.
So far the bastard had been able to avoid her. He hadn't been to
work for a week. Claimed he was sick. Lying, cheating, two timing,
arrogant-

Mulder's car came out of the parking structure, and she rushed to
her vehicle parked at the side of the street. As Mulder pulled out
onto the street, she followed, just far enough away that he wouldn't
ascertain what she was doing.

She smiled. If everything went as planned, she'd be very, very
happy. Mulder would lead her to Mike.

She laughed and the noise echoed around the car with a high pitched
intonation as irritating as the sound of breaking glass.

End of Part Four

My Deadly Valentine (5/13)

Special Agent Mike Trevinos Home
Arlington, Virginia
Thursday, 6:45pm

Mulder looked at the framed photograph of Carl and his partner
Mike sitting in a fishing boat and smiling broadly for the camera.

"That photo was taken during much better days," Mike said softly,
easing his large frame into the chair next to the fireplace. He took
a deep sip of his whiskey, half tempted to slam back the amber liquid
in one gulp. But he knew if he didnt take it slow hed fill the small
glass full and drain it, too. Take it nice and easy. Taking a much
tinier taste of the alcohol, he savored the gusto as it burned a
pleasant path to his stomach. "Much better days."

Mulder turned away from the fireplace mantle and sat in the
winged-back chair across from Mike. Hed arrived a few moments ago at
the small Georgian style home, and the burly agent had welcomed him
inside almost begrudgingly. Reflecting on the eagerness with which
Mike had agreed to meeting with him initially, Mulder wondered what
had changed the mans attitude in such a short time. As he watched
Mike drink the whiskey from the crystal glass, Mulder noticed his
pasty complexion and the slightly glazed haze in his dark eyes.

Today Mike seemed changed and weakened. Normally pleasant and as
jolly as Santa Claus, the agent was jumpy.

Mike pushed a hand slowly through the thick, curly brown hair on
his head. Mulder noted the twitching, awkward movements and worried
the man was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Youre staring, Mulder," Mike said, sighing like a man waiting
with ever increasing anxiety for the time of his execution. Although
Mikes movements were steady, Mulder guessed hed been partaking of the
whiskey for some time.

When Mulder didnt say anything, Mike smiled. "Sure you dont want
some of this whiskey? If you dont have some I might drink the whole
friggin bottle."

"Cant, Mike. Im working."

"I thought you did whatever you wanted. How the hell do you do
it? Its freaking amazing what you get away with."

Mulder nodded. "Spooky, isnt it?"

Mike laughed and set his glass on the floor next to him. "I
suppose you want to ask me about Carls death?

Mulder leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his
thighs and lacing his fingers together. "Yes. I looked through Carls
desk and found his desk calendar. Did you know hed been receiving
Valentines from a person called Angel?"

"Yes." Mike smiled faintly. "You probably also went through my
desk calendar?"

Mulder wasnt proud of what hed done, but he wasnt going to lie.
"I did."

"No use in me denying what you already know. I got a card the
last week of January, but I didnt think much of it. Thought it was a
prank Carl was playing on me. It wasnt signed, so I figured it had to
be him. I tore it up and threw it in the garbage." Mike shrugged.
"I wish Id kept it now. Then I got another card the next week, and
this time it was signed by this Angel person."

"And during this time you didnt say anything to Carl about the
two Valentines you received?"

Mike reached down for his glass again, and after perusing the
liquid inside for a moment, he slammed back the drink. "Not a word.
Like I said, I thought the first one was a prank."

"Did you think the second card was a joke, too?"

"At first. Then I looked at the letters a little closer." Mikes
gaze shifted from Mulder to the fireplace. The merry dance of the gas
flames looked artificial, and the warmth they provided didnt remove
the relentless cold that had seeped into Mikes bones. "When I
realized they were made of blood, I was concerned, but I was intrigued
by the invitation to meet Angel at Antoines on Valentines Day. I
decided that if it was a nut case sending me the card, Id meet them
and assess how dangerous they were. By then Id started to get this
creepy feeling."

Mulder sat back in his chair. "What kind of creepy feeling?"

Mike shrugged, and then he stood up and went to the dark wood
sideboard that served as a liquor cabinet. Opening the cabinet, he
pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and filled his glass half full. Screw
abstinence. Forget every pretense of being in control. He hadnt
gotten drunk in a very long time. And tonight was ripe for letting
liquor take him to the Sand Man.

Finally Mike said, "Hell, just thinking about it now gives me the
creeps all over again."

Mulder wanted to press the man, rush him forward and tell him to
stop putting off the inevitable. But he realized Mike was already
hanging by a very minuscule string. Gathering his patience, Mulder
decided to go slowly.

Before he could speak, Mike continued. "For the last few weeks
Ive felt someone was watching me." He chuckled, but the sound was
more a snort than genuine amusement. "After I decided the cards
werent a joke, I thought it might be my girlfriend Cindy sending me
the Valentines. After all, Cindy and Ive only been dating a month,
and we dont know a lot about each other. It was possible she got
off on jokes like this and I wouldnt know about it."

Seizing on the idea Mulder asked, "How did you meet Cindy?"

"At the bureau. She works in Skinners area. When I told Cindy
about the Valentines she got really worried, then she got mad as hell
at the idea that anyone would send me an awful thing like that. I
never explained that I suspected her."

"Are you still suspicious of her?"

"No. I dont think she did it."

Mulder was tempted to ask Mike why hed crossed her off as a
suspect, but decided he had more pressing questions. "The cards I
received were apparently hand delivered. No postmark. I assume
yours were the same?"

"Yes. Thats what made me wonder about Cindy at first. She had
access to our area at certain times, and she admitted that. But I
figured shed hardly own up to that if shed planted the cards."

Mulder nodded, not entirely convinced Mikes logic was sound.
"Possibly."

Mike wrapped his large fingers around his glass and took a swig
of his drink. He grimaced slightly, as if tasting liquor for the
first time. "Mulder, I need to find out who killed Carl."

"Why werent you assisting with the investigation today?"

Giving another chortle, Mike gazed at Mulder steadily. "I hate
to admit it, but Im scared. Cowardly, I know, but there it is. What
type of sick bastard writes in blood, eh?"

"A seriously demented individual. Can you think of anyone who
might be interested in frightening or harming you and Carl? Maybe a
perp with a grudge?"

"Hell, Mulder, I couldnt begin to count the number of people who
would have sent Carl six feet under if theyd had a chance." He ran
his hand over the roughness of his five oclock shadow. "Guess one of
them got their wish. But Im not going to let them get me." Mike put
down his drink and got out of his chair to pace the floor like a
animal imprisoned in a cage. "You ever felt like the world was
closing in on you, Mulder? That you cant go any direction but
straight down?"

Mulder leaned back in his chair. "More often than youd imagine."

Mulder could easily sympathize with the man in front of him. Too
many times hed felt the same way. No where to run. No possibility of
escape. The gnarled, skeletal hand of death seemed to trail right
behind Mulder, threatening in the back of his mind where his vivid
imagination would design horrific dreams and dire predictions. Hed
had these dreams, these visions of his own end for so long he wasnt
always sure where reality began sometimes. Always, in the most secret
corner of his consciousness, was the fear that everything hed ever
loved or known would be ripped from him.

Just like Samantha.

Just like his father.

And, God forbid, Scully.

Sensing his minds swerve into a tangent, Mulder decided to get
himself back in line. "What did you think when Carl started receiving
the cards? Or did you know he was getting them?"

"Oh, I knew right away. Carl told me, and I cautioned him not to
go to Antoines to meet this Angel person." Mike frowned and looked at
his feet. "I was caught between thinking it was a serious problem and
that maybe it really was all put on by Carl or Cindy or someone. Carl
was such a joker anyway." He took a deep breath. "Then we got tied
up with a case and I forgot about it for awhile. Unlike me, Carl
is--was as fearless as a ram in mating season. When he received the
last card and went to Antoines to meet this mysterious Angel, he
disappeared and didnt come back. That was Wednesday."

"You werent worried?"

Mike stopped pacing and turned on Mulder with fury in his eyes.
"Christ, Mulder, do you have any idea how concerned I was about him?
Damn fool was always going off half cocked without telling me what he
was doing."

For an amusing moment, Mulder could hear Scully talking,
expressing the same sentiments about his own propensity to let
his obsessions carry him away.

"A man after my own heart," Mulder said.

Mike frowned, and Mulder thought he saw a shudder go through his
body. "This time Mike told me where he was going, and I didnt argue
with him. Maybe if I had he would be alive right now."

Guilt, Mulder thought. An enduring pestilence that eroded self-
esteem and ate the heart out of you like a carnivorous beast. It
wasnt an emotion you could tell someone not to feel, or try to comfort
them. Guilty feelings were either there or they werent.

"You think the person who killed Carl will be after you next?"
Mulder asked.

Mike shook his head and walked to the fireplace. Watching the
flames burn steadily, he smiled. "Yes."

"Thats why youre not going to Antoines tomorrow, right?"

"Yes."

Mulder stood up. "Mike, I realize how you feel, but if youd been
murdered Im sure Carl would be out there kicking butt and taking
names. Sure hed be scared, but hed want justice."

Mikes gaze snapped to Mulder. "What are you getting at, Mulder?"

"Im saying that Scully and I need your help with this case. I
need to find out who the culprit is for my sake, too. Because if I
dont, theres a good chance you and I could end up like Carl."

FBI Headquarters
Basement
7:55pm

"Damn," Scully muttered as she headed down the long corridor to
the office.

She should be thinking about the autopsy shed witnessed a short
time ago. Or maybe the eerie Valentines Carl and Mulder had received.

Instead she found herself obsessing over the Valentine that
remained unopened on her desk.

After the little stunt Mulder had pulled in Pendrells office
earlier in the day, shed contemplated tossing the card into the trash
without a second glance. Maybe, when Mulder returned to the office,
shed ask him why hed insisted on letting everyone think theyd been on
a vacation together. Skinner wouldnt be amused if he heard the
gossip. A picture of Skinner dressed like Queen Victoria and spouting
"We are not amused" popped into her head. Of course Skinner would
know the rumor was false because it was obvious Mulder had been to
work the two weeks she had been gone.

She made the decision to ask Mulder why hed started the rumor,
and then shed put him in his place. Then again, when she asked him
hed probably give her that indignant, superior look, or hed play the
innocent.

Sometimes there was no understanding the man.

Once again she contemplated her apprehension over opening the
Valentine hed given her. Was it guilt because she hadnt gotten him
one? Was it because she was afraid of what it said? Why was she
making a big deal about it? Mulder was feeling a little more
charitable than usual and decided that after her vacation he kind of
missed her.

A pleasant thought, but by no means guaranteed. Maybe shed just
open the damned thing while he wasnt around. Then there was his
invite to dinner. No use speculating on that right now. With the way
this case was going, there was a good chance theyd miss Skinners party
and dinner tomorrow night.

Once she reached the office she unlocked the door and flipped on
the light switch. Weary, she sank into her chair and turned on her
computer. Looking over at the coffee pot, she contemplated making
more of the caffeine loaded brew to keep awake. Then she recalled
shed promised Mulder a phone call after shed finished assisting with
the autopsy on Carls body.

She reached for the telephone and dialed Mulders cell phone
number.

He answered on the third ring. "Mulder."

"Hi, its me," she said. "Im back from the autopsy. Are you
still at Mikes?"

"No. Im on my way back to the office."

"Did he shed any light on why Carl may have been murdered?"

"Not as much as I hoped, but Ive got a new suspect in mind.
Mikes girlfriend, Cindy."

Scully almost dropped the phone. Shed known Cindy Fairchild for
quite awhile, and she had a difficult time imagining the petite blonde
as a murderer. "Youre kidding."

"No, but Ill explain when I get back."

"Is Mike willing to help us with the investigation?"

Mulder sighed. "Not exactly. I tried to convince him to go to
Antoines tomorrow to meet Angel. He refused. Hes scared, Scully.
Ive never seen the man so jumpy. Did you discover anything earth
shattering at the autopsy?"

"No, actually. Cause of death was as we expected. Multiple stab
wounds to the chest and abdominal cavity. But we found something that
explains why Carl was so easy to subdue. He was drugged with
secobarbital before his death. Whoever killed him drugged him, then
took him to the field and stabbed him there."

Mulder cursed under his breath. Then he cursed again. "Ah,
Scully, I think I have a problem."

She felt her pulse leap, banging a fearful tune in her veins.
"Whats wrong?"

"I think theres someone following me. Theyve been with me since
I left Mikes house. They keep a consistent speed. I turned down a
couple of back roads to see if I could head them off, but theyve
continued to follow."

She closed her eyes for a second and touched the small golden
cross at her throat. "Mulder, get back here as soon as you can."

"Maybe Ill try a different route than I usually go."

Fear added extra punctuation to her voice. "Damn it, Mulder,
dont take any chances. I knew I should have gone with you."

"The vehicle is coming closer."

"Mulder" The line went dead.

Fear and anger coalesced, and she clutched at the cross, feeling
the sharp corners stick her flesh. "Mulder!"

Silence.

End of Part Five

My Deadly Valentine (6/13)

Back road outside of Arlington, Virginia
Thursday, 8:00pm

Mulder watched as the headlights on the speeding car came closer
and closer. He'd dropped the cell phone as soon as he realized that
the vehicle behind him was rapidly approaching.

The car was going to ram him.

Cursing under his breath, he kept both hands tight on the wheel.
Rain poured from the moisture swollen clouds in the night sky, and
visibility was at a minimum. Despite the chance of hydroplaning, he
pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

Slam!

Mulder had a couple of seconds to wonder why his driving skills
didn't kick in, but then he realized with the amount of rain on the
road, it didn't matter what he tried. His car spun to the right,
hurling and turning three hundred and sixty degrees before it stopped
with jarring force in a ditch at the side of the road.

When the world stopped spinning, Mulder found himself still
firmly strapped into his seat, but his head was throbbing wildly, and
he felt slightly dizzy. He shook his head, trying to remove the fuzzy
focus from his eyes.

Had stay alert in case-

Headlights blared into his front windshield, blinding him with
their searing brightness. A car had stopped along the side of the
road. He instinctively reached for his gun.

Maybe it was just a concerned citizen who'd witnessed the
accident.

Or perhaps it was Angel coming to finish him off.

FBI Headquarters
Basement
Thursday, 9:00pm

Scully paced the floor of the office, her agitation and worry
increasing with every click of her heels on the floor.

Mulder didn't answer his cell phone, and he should have been back
by now. She'd trying calling Mike Trevino's house, but there was no
answer. If Mulder didn't walk through that door soon, she was going
out to look for him. Her headstrong partner wasn't the only one with
an overactive imagination. A thousand awful scenarios passed through
her mind, bouncing from one unpleasant possiblity to another. She
gritted her teeth.

Someday his luck was going to run out. If it wasn't the powers-
that-be hidden within the higher echelons of the government who
decided to put him out of their misery, she might just have to shoot
him herself.

She glanced at her watch again. A minute later than the last
time she looked.

Suddenly the office door opened.

Mulder stepped inside, his rain dampened coat smudged with dirt,
and the side of his forehead streaked with a small patch of dried
blood.

Her mouth dropped open. "Mulder."

Grinning slightly, he said, "It's possible that it could be me,
Scully. After that last wild ride, I'm not sure."

As he approached her, her anger mixed with relief. She went to
him, reaching up to tilt his head to the side. "You're hurt."

He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his face. "It takes
a lot more than a thump on the noggin to slow me down."

Letting her hand rest in his, she gave him a lopsided grin.
"Mulder, I'm surprised you have any brain cells left at all
considering how many times you've been hit on the head. What
happened this time?"

He pulled his fingers gently from her clutches and settled into
his chair with a exhausted sigh. "I'm afraid Angel found me."

"What?"

"I guess you could say the Angel of death, in this case."

She wondered if the rap on the head had effected him more
severely than he was letting on. "Mulder, you're speaking in riddles.
Do you have a concussion?"

"No. I'm okay."

She looked into his eyes and saw that his pupils appeared even.
"Let me get some antiseptic and clean off that cut. Then you're going
to the hospital for x-rays."

She went to her desk and pulled out a small first aid kit.
Locating an antiseptic toilette and bandage, she dabbed at the
cut on his forehead. "Ow!"

She made a face at him. "I've barely touched you."

"And here I thought you were going to get all maternal on me."

Ignoring his comment, she said, "Tell me what happened."

He explained in detail what had occurred during his talk with
Mike and then his encounter with the killer car. "After I crashed
into the ditch, this car pulled up that I thought might be Angel back
to complete the job. Then I realized the car was coming from the
wrong direction. I saw the badge and the smoky the bear hat and
realized it was a state patrolman. Anyway, he brought me back to the
office."

"He should have taken you to the hospital."

"I told him I had a doctor that makes house calls."

"This is exactly what I was worried about," she said, searching
his eyes for any sign of concern about the situation. "Somebody,
whether it's this Angel person or not, eliminated Carl and now they're
after you." Securing the bandage over the cut on his forehead, she
frowned deeply. "You're not going to try and meet Angel tomorrow are
you?"

He shrugged. "At this point it seems like a reasonable
alternative to sitting around waiting for her to run me off the road
again. At least if we meet in a public place she won't be able to try
anything."

"You don't know that," she said, watching his eyes narrow and his
mouth tighten into a firm line.

"By following up on this we're doing our jobs. We can't drop it
because someone ran me off the road."

Logically, in the part of her she recognized as the old,
dependable Scully, she knew he was right. Illogically, she was
frightened. Maybe she was loosing the edge required to do this
type of job.

She sighed. "All right. I understand. But we should be able to
think of some other way to do this."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

She crossed her arms. "You didn't get the license plate number
of the car that hit you?"

"No."

"You mentioned on the phone that you suspect Cindy Fairchild."

"Yeah. What does that have to do with the license plate?"

"Come on, Mulder," she said as she reached for her coat. "Let's
see what kind of car Cindy Fairchild has."

"I already checked on what type of car she has, then checked the
garage below and there was no sign of her car. I figured we could pay
her a visit this evening."

For a moment she considered hitting him on the head herself.
"You mean you traipsed around the parking facility first before you
came up here?"

"Yes."

Scully opened her mouth to let him have it, then thought the
better of it. If she gave him a verbal lashing now, she might also
end up saying something she'd regret.

Instead she took a deep breath and pulled on her coat. "Did it
ever occur to you that I might be concerned about what happened to
you, Mulder?"

He stood slowly, as if his head might fall off if he moved too
quickly. When he said nothing, she felt a blaze of anger heat her
face, and she turned to leave, not even caring if he followed her or
not.

"Scully," he said, reaching for her arm. "Wait."

As she turned to face him, she thought she saw an apology in his
eyes. But if there was one thing she did know about Fox Mulder, it
was that the word sorry was not often in his vocabulary.

"My cell phone was broken or I would have called you after the
accident."

Disappointed with his feeble excuse, she gently disengaged her
arm from his hold. "There were other ways to get in touch with me,
Mulder. You just didn't care enough about what I felt to try."

When he looked down at her from his considerable height
advantage, she saw his eyes soften slightly, as if he might be
ruminating over what she'd said. Then she turned and left.

End of Part Six

My Deadly Valentine (7/13)

Thursday, 9:45pm

Scully hated waiting.

She'd waited to hear from Mulder tonight, now she was waiting
while he finished up at x-ray.

As she sat in the emergency room waiting area of the hospital and
watched CNN flicker on the fuzzy television picture across the room,
she was thankful that Mulder's injuries were minor.

But the wound to her feelings was more complete. Their drive to
the hospital had been fraught with a tension filled silence. She knew
the unease was coming from her.

She'd always believed that patience was a virtue, and people had
complimented her on her ability to weather the most boring situations
with aplomb.

But it was possible that her forbearance where Mulder was concerned
was coming to a close. Maybe she needed to have a talk with him about
the way he aggravated her sometimes with his inconsiderateness. She'd
always done her best to let him know where she was and what was going
on with her when they were on a case. Was it too much to ask for him
to do the same?

Maybe.

She despised that word. How many hearts had been shattered with
that one simple word because of what it implied? So many things were
left hanging with that two syllable word.

Perhaps. Possibly.

Like a carrot dangled in front of the horse's nose.

God, Dana, get a grip. You really are tired.

A long time ago she'd decided Mulder's personality was something
she wasn't going to change, anymore than he was going to alter her way
of doing things. Like an old married couple they'd resigned
themselves to each other's faults.

Mulder was a complex man. Like a diamond with a multitude of
facets, he could go from being concerned and considerate to rude and
stubborn quicker than you could say 'abduction.' Sometimes she
wondered, however, if she'd have him any other way.

There ought to be a law against men like him.

"Scully."

She looked up at the tall figure next to her, and he sank into
the chair beside her.

"What's the verdict, Mulder?" she asked.

He gave her a tentative smile. "You'll be happy to know I'm the
owner of two bruised ribs. The doctor taped me up and ordered me to
go home and rest for the evening. Essentially he doesn't want me to
work for a couple of days."

"But you're going to go to Antoine's tomorrow anyway, aren't
you?"

"Yes. Also, I think we should visit Cindy Fairchild this
evening."

As they walked out of the hospital to her car, she thought about
arguing with him on both points but decided it wouldn't do her any
good. Mulder would do what he wanted, as always, and no one would
stop him. Besides, he was right about checking up on Cindy Fairchild
and her car. As they got into Scully's car she glanced at him. He
looked very tired, and she was still a little concerned about the rap
he'd taken on the head.

"You're staying at my place, tonight," she said.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked.

"You've stayed at my place before."

"I know, but you were worried about what people thought when I
told Frohicke and Pendrell that we went on vacation together."

"Someone tried to kill you tonight and you shouldn't be alone."

She expected him to debate, but instead he said, "Thanks,
Scully."

"You're welcome. I think."

He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't try to get in touch with
you after the accident."

She was surprised, and turned in her seat to look at him. "Don't
leave me hanging like that again, Mulder. I'm your partner and I care
what happens to you, even if you don't care about yourself."

For a moment he gazed at her intently, then he nodded. "I really
do appreciate this. But I have a request. After we get done
interviewing Cindy Fairchild, can we order in for pizza? I'm
starving."

She smiled slightly. "What happened to your sunflower seeds?"

"Ate them all."

Somewhere In The Washington D.C. area
Thursday, 10:30pm

As she lay in bed, the horrifying images crept into the young
woman's sleep like demons bent on destruction. Every night the dreams
came to her, and Bella showed her the right way to treat men who were
unfaithful.

Bella instructed her. Explained how important it was to rid the
world of those male creatures who showed a propensity for
inconsistency. It wasn't enough to tell them where to get off, or to
stop dating them. Punishment had to suit the crime. And as far as
Bella was concerned, the only answer to a philanderer was a sentence
of death.

The sheets on the young woman's bed became twisted around her
limbs as she writhed, enjoying the ecstasy as she watched Bella
begin her performance over the unfaithful man's body.

Blood splattered as Bella struck the man over and over again with
the knife.

The man's body was prone, his eyes closed, and Bella's white
shirt became flecked with the man's red life force.

Bella's laugh echoed around the room as she finally finished her
duty, licking her lips and tasting something salty there.

Gasping, the young woman woke from her dream about Bella, and
sprang out of her bed. She had to go to the sacred room and perform
the ritual. Bella would be angry. Leaving her bedroom she went down
the hall to the second bedroom in her apartment. Hastily she turned
on the light in the closet sized room and glanced around. At the far
corner of the room was a small dresser. On either side of the room
was a table, and on them dozens of red candles.

Matches. Needed matches. Hurry. Hurry. Before Bella went into
a rage. Bella's fury was excruciating, and nothing was worth
attempting to defy her.

She located the matches on one of the tables, nestled into their
specially designated crystal dish. She frantically lit the candles.

Candlelight flickered over the red walls creating bouncing
shadows that danced like ghosts in a macabre parade.

She knelt by the small dresser that held all her essential items
of worship. On the lace draped top were pictures of Carl and Mike.

And Mulder.

It had taken considerable time to accumulate these images of the
men she loved. For weeks she'd followed them one by one, carefully
planning her every move to be in the right place to snap a quick
photo. Bella demanded it.

The young woman closed her eyes for a second and heard Bella
speak.

Do it. Do it. Kill. Kill. Kill.

Bella was always whispering in her ear, telling her that all the
men she loved would eventually hurt her, lie to her, deceive in the
worst possible way.

They were all bastards who took advantage of women and then threw
them away.

Carl had deserved to be punished. Bella said so. Therefore it
must be true.

Picking up Carl's picture, she held it up to the flame of one of
the candles on the dresser and watched the light waver behind the
photo. Carl had been like the flame. Unsteady, unreliable.

Suddenly, violently, she began to rip his picture to shreds,
tearing the three by five into the tiniest pieces she could manage.
By the time she was done, her breath came fast and hard, and she felt
a tingle start in her lower abdomen. It was always like that when she
tore their faces to pieces and watched them fall to the floor like
confetti. A satisfied moan issued from her lips, and the thought of
blood on her lips added to the glorious tingling through her body.

She held Mike's picture up to the flame and gazed at it for
several moments. A deep sigh came from her throat and then turned
to a growl as she dropped his picture back onto the dresser.

Hell, fire, and damnation! She'd screwed up royally this
evening. And Bella was going to punish her for it. Instead of going
after Mulder, she should have killed Mike. As she'd waited down the
block for Mulder to leave Mike's house this evening, her reasoning
scrambled from one possibility to another. Kill Mike or kill Mulder?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Before she could make her own determination, fate had apparently
taken the problem out of her hands. Mulder had left Mike's house and
she'd followed him. Ramming him with the car had been an impulsive
act, she knew, but it pleased her to do it. She knew as she'd raced
away from the scene that she hadn't killed him. He'd only gone into
the ditch. But at least she'd taught him a lesson. Arabella would be
happy about that.

Sighing, she lifted the picture of Mulder and held it to the
flame.

She felt a slow, burning resentment as she looked at the
photograph. Why couldn't Mulder just go somewhere by himself sometime
so she could have gotten a picture of him without Scully in it, too?
It seemed he went everywhere with her.

Wait. Wait until you meet him at Antoine's tomorrow. Then you
can be alone with him. See how he acts towards you. If you like the
results, he might prove himself to be worthy yet.

Yes. Bella was right. Patience was a virtue.

End of Part Seven

My Deadly Valentine (8/13)

Cindy Fairchild's Apartment
Thursday, 11:00pm

The first thing Mulder noticed about Cindy Fairchild as she
opened the door of her house was how petite she was. Smaller,
perhaps, than even Scully.

The second thing he perceived was how her paisley silk robe
dipped low enough in front that Mulder's imagination didn't have
to do much to fill in the blanks.

Cindy's short blond hair framed a pixie face which made her look
about nineteen, although Mulder knew she was at least twenty nine.

Cindy's blue gaze bounced from Scully to Mulder, and she frowned.
"Dana. Agent Mulder. What are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock at
night."

"We apologize for coming by so late, but this is bureau
business," Mulder said.

Still looking puzzled, she opened the door wider. "Come in.
It's freezing out here."

She invited the agents into the living room of the large house,
and when they sat on the couch, she sat down in a chair across from
them, curling her feet under her as if she were cold.

"Does this have something to do with the valentines Carl and Mike
got?" Cindy asked.

Mulder exchanged a glance with Scully.

"Did you send the valentines, Cindy?" Mulder asked without
preamble, hoping for an immediate and revealing reaction.

Cindy's mouth dropped open in what appeared to be genuine
surprise. "Excuse me?"

Scully gave Mulder a glance, then looked back at Cindy. "Forgive
Mulder, Cindy. He's had a bad evening. What we need to know is
anything you can tell us about the valentines Carl and Mike received."

Cindy shrugged. "I don't know if I can tell you anything."

"I talked to Mike this evening, Cindy," Mulder said.

For several seconds Cindy stared at Mulder, expressionless, as if
she was waiting him to add more. Then she unfolded her body and stood
up, giving Mulder a flash of smooth legs as she reached for a brown
afghan lying on the back of the couch. Wrapping herself in the
afghan, she settled back onto the couch.

"And did Mike tell you he suspected me of sending the
valentines?" Cindy asked.

"He told me he suspected you at one time, but that he realized
after talking with you that you wouldn't do something like that,"
Mulder said.

Cindy grinned and looked at Mulder sharply, her full lips
thinning with what looked like indignation. Her expression almost
made him ashamed he'd asked her whether she'd sent the valentines.

Almost.

"Did he tell you that I once spent some time in a mental
institution?" Cindy asked.

"No," Mulder said, glancing at Scully. He was a little angry
with himself for not checking on her background before they came over.
Maybe his brains were more like scrambled eggs than he thought.

"What were you there for?" Scully asked.

Cindy tightened her hold on the afghan, as if she could use it as
a shield. "Depression. It was about six years ago. My boyfriend was
murdered." She sighed. "Look, I have nothing to hide. You could
find the same information about me without coming here late at night
to find out."

Scully nodded. "We apologize for the intrusion, Cindy, but you
know we have to do a thorough job on this case. Mike could be in
danger if we don't track down whoever did this. I'm sure you can
understand that."

Cindy's crystal blue eyes calmed slightly, and she nodded. Mulder
was glad Scully was there to soft soap the situation. She always
seemed to know how to smooth things over. Sometimes Mulder felt like
she was the other side of his personality. The better half, in this
case, it seemed.

"Mike said that he didn't tell you he suspected you," Mulder
said.

"He didn't have to tell me, Agent Mulder. Mike is a nice guy,
but sometimes he's as transparent as hell." Cindy flung the afghan
back off of her shoulders, as if the room had suddenly become too hot.
"Anyway, I didn't really blame him for being suspicious. He knew I'd
had problems in the past with depression. I was honest with him about
that."

"Commendable," Mulder said.

Cindy smiled, and the curve of her lips seemed genuine this time.
"Honesty is the best policy in relationships, Agent Mulder. Come
clean straight up and no one can ever say you deceived them. A lot of
damage is done by lying. You never know if you can trust someone ever
again if they lie to you once."

As she gazed at him steadily, he almost felt like she was talking
about him. The feeling wasn't very pleasant. Why should he feeling
guilty? Shaking the unsettling idea to the side, he tried to muster
another question. Nothing would come.

"Where were you on the night Carl was killed?" Scully asked.

"In bed."

"Can anyone substantiate that for you?" Mulder asked.

She smiled. "If you're asking was someone in bed with me that
night, no."

Scully glanced at Mulder, but he was glad to see that for once it
wasn't an exasperated expression. "How long have you been working with
the FBI, Cindy?"

Cindy smiled. "You know me well enough you shouldn't have to
ask. About two months."

Scully smiled. "Sorry, but it's all in the routine."

"And what were you doing before you started working at the FBI?"
Mulder asked.

"I worked for the Defense Investigative Service as a secretary
for almost five years. It was during that time my boyfriend was
killed."

She looked upward and to the left, and Mulder tried to recall
what he knew about neurolinguistic programming so that he could tell
if she was constructing something in her memory, or making the image
up in her mind. But like everything else tonight, his photographic
memory wasn't working.

"Why did you leave DIS?" Mulder asked.

"Because I was bored and needed a change," she said. "Five years
was more than enough time to get antsy and move on. After I got out
of the treatment for the depression, I decided it was time to find
greener pastures."

"Cindy, do have any idea who might be sending these valentines to
agents at the bureau?" Scully asked.

Cindy peered at Scully, and her lips parted slightly. Mulder
thought she looked genuinely surprised. "Are you saying other agents
besides Carl and Mike received valentines?"

"Mulder has received two. All of the valentines were distributed
by someone with access to our offices."

Cindy nodded "Mike told me that. So it has to be someone in the
bureau." She sighed and reached back to pull the afghan around
herself again. "Well, at least that narrows it down a bit."

Mulder leaned forward. "May we have a look at your car, Cindy?"

She shrugged and stood up. "Sure? Why?"

"Mulder was run off the road by another car this evening," Scully
answered.

Cindy ran a hand through her already mussed hair. "And you think
I did it?"

Mulder kept his face deliberately passive. "We're checking all
angles."

Cindy sighed and stood up. "Follow me." She lead them through
the kitchen and to the door that connected to the garage. After she
unlocked it and flipped on the light, she moved back from the door.
She gestured to the open door. "Be my guest."

Mulder scanned the large green sedan with interest. It was at
least ten years old, and had seen much better days. After going over
the bumpers and generally perusing the worse for wear vehicle, he
concluded it wasn't the car that had hit him.

They returned to the living room, but this time Mulder and Scully
remained standing.

"Sorry we had to come by so late, Cindy," Scully said.

Cindy looked back and forth between the agents, her lips pursed
into an uncompromising straight line. "I suppose it was necessary."

As they moved toward the front door, Cindy stopped and looked at
the agents again. This time her expression was less guarded, more
worried. "How was Mike, Agent Mulder? I mean, when I saw him last
night he wasn't doing so well. Carl was his best friend. But Mike
hides his feelings so well, it was like he was trying to keep
everything in."

Scully glanced at Mulder, and he saw something in her eyes he
couldn't define, but it piqued his interest enough that he was
determined to ask her about it when they were alone.

"I think he'll be okay," Mulder said, non committal. Cindy was
right about Mike. Although Mike had lost his partner, his suffering
was fairly well hidden. "I think he just needs time. Lots of time."

Cindy paled, and for a moment he thought he saw fear in her eyes.
"What if that crazy bitch comes after him?"

Scully glanced at Mulder again.

"Bitch?" Scully asked.

"The woman who killed Carl," Cindy said impatiently.

"How do you know it's a woman?" Mulder asked.

Cindy made a sarcastic noise, somewhere between a snort and a
laugh. "Mike said it had to be a woman."

"We're not completely certain," Scully said. "Nothing is
concrete at this point."

Looking down, Cindy nodded. "Well, whoever it is needs to be
caught quickly." The agents were silent as they went down the porch
steps. "Agent Mulder?"

He turned to look at the pixie-faced woman and she smiled
slightly. She took a deep breath and then said, "Be careful,
Agent Mulder. Nothing like a woman scorned."

End of Part Eight

My Deadly Valentine (9/13)

11:45pm

What if I lost Scully?

The thought slammed into Mulder with unusual force, and as they
said their good byes to Cindy he couldn't remember what he murmured in
farewell.

The thought of loosing Scully to death was too often on his mind
these days, but he tried to keep the horrifying idea at bay as much as
possible. When Lucien Gray had used his powers on Scully, Mulder had
thought he might never see her again. Alive.

As they got into the car he was silent, and Scully glanced at him
a couple of times as she drove them toward her apartment.

"Okay, what's on your mind, Mulder?" she asked finally.

"A pizza and a good night's sleep."

Scully smiled. "Do you think Cindy could be our murderous
Angel?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Her car wasn't the one
that hit me."

"That's no guarantee she isn't Angel."

"True. She had enough time to possibly ditch the car she used
and get back home in time to be suitably mussed up. Did you see that
robe she was wearing?"

She smiled. "I think the question is, what didn't you see?"

His answering smile was devilish. "You got any robes like that,
Scully?"

Her eyes widened, and she looked momentarily shocked before she
smiled and said, "What if I did?"

Mulder frowned. "I hate paisley."

* * *

Scully lifted a piece of pepperoni from the slice of thick crust
pizza and watched as the cheese attached to it stretched, refusing to
let go of the crust.

She hadn't realized until they'd ordered the pizza that she was
starving, and she anticipated her next bite with great relish. As the
stubborn cheese finally let loose, she popped the spicy meat into her
mouth and chewed. She looked up at Mulder, and he was staring at her
from across the small kitchen table.

Licking her lips and then dabbing at her mouth with a paper
napkin, she said, "What are you looking at?"

"You," he said, his expression intent.

"And?"

He was silent for so long, she was almost sure he wasn't going to
answer. Didn't he know it was rude to stare at someone like that?

Like what, Dana? Like you're a piece of pizza, and he's dying to
take a bite out of you?

The unbidden thought made her blush, and she looked away from his
intense scrutiny. After the unnerving incidents between them in
Salem, their relationship seemed to have been redefined in the most
subtle of ways. Although he'd always looked at her with a special
understanding that she found intriguing and often comforting, it often
disturbed her. Internally she knew it wasn't possible for Mulder to
look at her any other way. And part of her also realized she enjoyed
those moments when they could glance at each other and realize what
the other was thinking. Wordless communication was an asset between
partners, especially in their positions. Sometimes, however, it was
disconcerting to know that so much went on behind Mulder's eyes that
she didn't understand. It gave her a sense of being alone. Adrift
and aware of her own vulnerability.

"This pizza sucks," Mulder said, chewing the soggy piece of crust
with a trace of cheese and sauce clinging to it.

She almost laughed out loud, stunned that she'd built up this
tension, this profound sense of importance in what he was about to
say, and then poof! Grinning, she finished the last bite of her
pizza and wiped her hands on her napkin.

"Mulder, you are a never ending source of amusement."

"Let me entertain you, Scully."

"What?" she asked sharply, her eyes widening again.

"You know, that old song. Let me, entertain you." He cleared
his throat as if he was getting ready to sing.

She laughed. "Don't even think about it. The neighborhood dogs
will have a field day."

They lapsed into a companionable silence as Mulder worked on
finishing the last two pieces of pizza with relish.

Scully was staring off into space when she realized he was
staring at her again. Eyes narrowing, she pinned him with a perturbed
stare. "Mulder, I swear if you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to
let you sleep in the alley."

"I was just wondering what makes a woman kill," Mulder said.

"I can tell you that."

"Hmm?" he said around a mouth full of pizza.

"You should know by now that women often kill for the same
reasons men do."

His eyebrows went up. "Sex, drugs, rock and roll?"

"In the case of Angel, I think we can say insanity."

He nodded and took another bite of pizza. He chewed thoughtfully.
"Let's think for a moment, though. She's gone to a lot of trouble to
send these cards, but her pattern is broken. She's not really leaving
many clues. We know she has something against men in the FBI."

"It doesn't have to be specifically FBI men. It could be men in
government in general. If the perp is Cindy, for example, she worked
in the DIS."

"Yeah. I wish now we'd stopped by the office to do that
background check on her past."

She sighed. "I'm beat, Mulder. We can do it tomorrow. Nowhere
in the FBI manual does it say 'thou must work twenty-four hours a
day.'"

"Sometimes it's preferable to sleeping," he said, his expression
darkening.

For a moment she almost reached out to him, wanting to cover his
hand in his and tell him that if he ever need to talk, she was there.
So much of his life was a haunted house. Creaking doors that lead
nowhere, strange noises in the night, mysterious clues that took him
deeper and deeper into a morass that he might step into one day and
never come out. Closing her eyes for a second, she forced the
disturbing image to the back of her mind where it belonged.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on thinking about the case
at hand. "Something else about Cindy bothers me. She's hiding
something from us."

"My feelings exactly. She mentioned a boyfriend being murdered.
Did she ever tell you how that happened?"

She shook her head. "No. We've only talked a few times, and
never got that personal. Before tonight, though, I always felt like
she was honest. First thing tomorrow I'm going to find out more about
her." Scully remembered some comments Cindy had made about Mulder.
At the time she'd considered them amusing. Now she wasn't sure if
they were innocuous observations. "She said some things about you,
Mulder."

He looked at her sharply and cocked one eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I don't know if I should tell you. It might deflate your
prodigious ego."

He frowned, pursing his lips in mock hurt. "I'm wounded, Scully.
My ego is not prodigious. Generous, perhaps, but not monumental."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Shoot."

"She said you thought you were irresistible and that one day a
woman would knock you off your pedestal and prove you wrong," she
said, her voice so low he almost didn't hear her.

Silence expanded in the room like a living entity, and she waited
for his response for a few taut seconds. He had a distinctly amused
glint in his eyes, and his mouth curved slightly as he leaned on the
table.

"Well, you've resisted me all this time, haven't you, Scully?"

Her gaze locked with his and held.

Unprepared for the wild flutter his statement sent to her stomach
and through her entire body, she looked away and tossed her napkin
into the empty pizza box. She closed the lid.

Hastily, she got to her feet and stuffed the pizza box into the
trash. Then she turned back to him. If she hadn't been prepared for
that unusual attention in his gaze a moment ago, she wasn't ready to
see that he was still looking at her that way now.

She took a deep breath. "Good night, Mulder."

With that she turned and headed down the hall. When she closed
her bedroom door, she turned and leaned against it. Then she closed
her eyes.

Mike Trevino's House
Arlington, Virginia
Friday, 2:00am

Mike jolted upright in bed, the strident, piercing jangle of the
telephone ringing in his ears.

His heart banged in his chest a hundred miles an hour as he
groped for the telephone on the night stand. He cursed as he searched
blindly in the dark. Finally his hands closed over the receiver.

"Trevino here." There was along pause before he answered again,
his brow drawn down deeply in a frown. "What? You do? Are you
sure?" He sighed deeply and looked at the digital numbers on his
bedside clock. "That's impossible. What proof do you have?" He
raked a hand through his hair. "That's ridiculous." He swung his
feet out of bed and glanced at the clock again. "Okay, okay. I'll
meet you there at about three thirty."

Slamming down the receiver, he stared at the phone for several
seconds, wondering if he was making a big mistake agreeing to meet in
such an isolated area. Opening the bedside table top drawer he pulled
out his gun. He fingered it slowly for a moment, caressing the cold
metal like a lover.

Scully's Apartment
Friday, 5:00am

Groggy, Mulder stumbled toward the kitchen, his eyes slowly
adjusting to the darkness. His eyes felt grainy, as if someone had
poured sand in them, and his mouth was as dry as a burlap bag.

Navigating with a disoriented gait around pieces of furniture, he
came to an abrupt halt when he plowed straight into a soft, petite
body coming down the hall.

"Oof!" The small figure expelled a grunt as he wrapped his arms
around Scully and tried to prevent them from falling to the floor.
"Mulder!"

After staggering, and getting his legs tangled in hers, he
managed to keep them upright. But they ended up against the wall,
Scully mashed by Mulder's significantly larger frame. Taking a couple
of deep, restoring breaths, he held her there. Fortunately, he
couldn't see her face. She was probably giving him a nasty frown from
hell. Unfortunately, he could feel every soft inch of her against
every hard inch of him. They were only pressed together for a few
seconds, but it was enough to bring a distinctly startling and
revealing reaction into his mind and body. But, being Mulder, there
were some things he wouldn't admit, even if someone had said they were
going to hold a blow torch to his-

Scully shifted slightly, and he sucked in a harsh breath.

"Scully, if you'd wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask."

Her small hands were pressed against his chest, and in the dim
light he could barely see her face tilted upwards. Suddenly she
shoved, taking him off guard. He released her instantly, stumbling
back a step with his momentum.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply, reaching over to snap
on a table lamp. Her hair was, like Cindy's had been earlier that
evening, very mussed. Without a trace of makeup on her face she
looked young and vulnerable, and flushed. She was wearing a thick
white terry robe that was too large by far.

It looked like a man's robe.

Mulder felt an undeniable, unrestrained burst of jealousy.

Oh, oh, Mulder, he thought. Let's not go there.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "It's five in the morning."

"I overslept. We should be on the way to the office by now. You
scared the crap out of me, Mulder. You should be thankful I didn't
kick you in the--"

"Scully, don't even think that."

Shaking her head, she moved swiftly for the kitchen and once she
was inside she flipped the light on. Mulder blinked in the dazzling
light, and put his hands over his eyes for a second. When he looked
back at her she was opening the refrigerator and taking out the milk.

"You'd better watch out, Mulder," she said as she turned closed
the refrigerator and then reached for a glass from the cupboard.
"The next time you sneak up on a woman, she might just kill you."

He groaned and stretched. "Your couch is going to kill me
first."

Giving him a disparaging look, she tossed him an apron. "Here,
Mulder. Your turn to cook."

He smiled as he tied the apron around his boxer shorts. "Okay,
Scully, but I warn you. The only way I like it is sunny side up."

End of Part Nine

My Deadly Valentine (10/13)

FBI Headquarters
Agent Pendrell's Lab
Valentine's Day
Friday, 9:00am

"I don't know what to tell you," Agent Pendrell said to Scully as
he sat down at his desk and handed her his report on the card that had
been found by Carl's body. "It's the same as the card Mulder
received. The blood on this card is type AB.

"And all your tests revealed nothing about the anticoagulant
discovered in the blood?" she asked.

"Not a thing. I still don't know what it is. I'm going to send
the information to the National Forensic Science Institute in Maryland
later today. Maybe they can help me." Pendrell wrinkled his nose as
if he'd smelled something bad. "Outside of that strange amino acid
protein you found in our small pox shots that one time, Agent Scully,
this is about the weirdest thing you've brought to me."

Scully felt sympathy well within her for Pendrell. It
was apparent that he was frustrated he couldn't produce more
information for her.

She sighed and smiled. "Thanks for trying."

Pendrell smiled, and his puppy dog look amused her.

"I...uh...didn't know you and Mulder were dating, Agent Scully,"
he said suddenly.

Startled by his directional change, she didn't respond for a
moment. To admit they weren't dating gave Pendrell an opening, to
pretend Mulder was more to her than a partner and friend could start
more rumors. As if there weren't enough rumors already. Nope. She
had to come clean. It was the mature thing to do.

"We're not dating," she said. "Don't believe a word that comes
out of Mulder's mouth about my vacation. You know how he is."

Pendrell's smile was rueful. "Tell me about it. But you're
really not dating him?"

She shook her head. "No. End of subject. Now what else did you
find out?"

"Well-"

Scully's cell phone rang and she retrieved it quickly. "Scully."

"It's me," Mulder said. "I've got some bad news."

She felt a shiver of unease do a crawl along her spine like a
moving row of spiders. "What now?

"Police just found Mike Trevino in the field where Carl was
discovered."

"Oh, no," she whispered.

"He's alive. Just barely. He's still in surgery, so no one has
been able to talk to him to try and find out what actually happened.
He was shot twice, and there's still a good chance he might not make
it."

"Any idea when he was shot?"

"They say sometime between three and four this morning. He was
found about five o'clock. It's amazing he didn't bleed to death
before he was found."

She sighed. "Mulder this is getting more dangerous all the time."

"I know. Skinner already let Cindy off so that she could go to
the hospital. Did Pendrell come up with anything new on the blood?"

She looked at Pendrell. "Other than it was type AB again,
absolutely nothing. He's sending the blood sample to NFSI for
more testing. Where are you?"

"On the way to Skinner's office."

"Do you think he'll be able to tell you anything more about
Cindy?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure he likes the angle we're taking on
this."

"That wouldn't be anything new." She looked at her watch. "Not
long now, Mulder. We'd better get some more information on this Angel
character before noon."

After she hung up, she reflected on the words she'd wanted to say
to Mulder, but had avoided. What good would it do to tell him for the
hundredth time that she was worried about him? Mulder knew the risks
and expected them as part of his job. Any agent with common sense
knew that some assignments were dangerous. And since when had the
X-Files been any different?

Outside Skinner's Office
9:15am

Mulder had almost reached Skinner's office when he saw Peg Galley
coming down the hallway toward him. Today she'd chosen a conservative
gray pinstripe suit rather than dots, and her midnight black hair was
swinging long, loose, and straight rather than in her usual chignon.
The only thing that marred her expression was a frown.

Never immune to the sight of a woman's long, lovely legs, Mulder
concentrated for a moment in admiration before he greeted her. When
she saw him her face brightened like a supernova, her smile setting
off the stunning blue of her eyes.

"Hi, Peg."

"Agent Mulder, what brings you here?"

"I'm on my way to visit Skinner."

Her smile disappeared. "Watch out. I know I shouldn't say
anything, but he's a bit crabby this morning. Cindy tried to get him
to say why he's so uptight, but he growled at her. Practically told
her to mind her own business."

"Sounds like him. He'll get over it once his agents stop getting
killed and shot."

"God, don't I know it. Poor Cindy was frantic this morning when
she heard about Mike Trevino. It's a good thing Mr. Skinner let her
go to the hospital. She wouldn't have been able to work today
thinking about him lying there at death's door."

"When you say she was frantic, did it seem like she was faking?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and she frowned again. "No way. She
was practically crying. I didn't think she really cared about him
that much. This is getting scary Agent Mulder. I feel like looking
over my shoulder ever two minutes." She shivered.

"I don't think you need to worry. So far the perpetrator behind
the crime isn't interested in women."

Peg crossed her arms, as if she was trying to get warm. "Yes,
but I don't feel secure here anymore. Isn't that crazy?"

Mulder glanced around the corridor. "Well, I haven't seen any
liver eating mutants or UFO's within the last half hour, so I guess
you're probably safe."

For a moment she looked puzzled, then she laughed. "How does
Agent Scully keep up with you?"

"Frequent trips to the psychiatrist," he said, hoping she didn't
really believe him. Then he remembered that Peg worked with Cindy.
"Peg, I have a couple of questions about Cindy. Can I count on you to
keep my questions confidential, though?"

She looked wary. "I don't know. What's this about?"

"It's related to an investigation Scully and I are doing right
now. But I need to know you'll remain quiet about what I'm going to
ask you."

Mulder watched her revolve the idea around before she nodded.
"Okay. But I've got to get back to work. Can we talk about this
during my lunch hour?"

Thinking about his date with an "Angel" at noon, he hesitated.
"I'm not sure. When is your lunch hour?"

"Eleven o'clock."

"That'll work. It'll have to be short and quick because I have
somewhere to be at twelve o'clock. Where do you want me to meet you?"

Grinning once again, she put one hand on her hip and tilted her
head to the side. The movement gave Mulder a good view of her slim,
white neck. "There's a little restaurant not far from here called
O'Riley's Tavern. Know the place?"

"I think so. Is that the pub that serves Irish grub?"

"That's the place. Hope you like corn beef."

"Hate it."

"Don't worry, they make a mean hamburger and fries." She shivered
again and rubbed her arms. "Anyway, it'll be a lot warmer in there
than it is here." Looking at her watch, she started to move away.
"Sorry, but I gotta go. Assistant Director Skinner expects me to pick
up some papers from Operations. See you at eleven?"

"I'll be there with bells on." He smiled and watched her walk
away before he headed into Skinner's office.

* * *

Skinner took his glasses off, closed his eyes and rubbed his
nose. Then he sighed. "Agent Mulder, this is not an X-File. I'm
turning the rest of this case over to Agent Patteris and Agent
Gilligan."

"Gilligan?" Mulder said. "Was he the one who wore those sailor-"

"Don't even start, Mulder." Skinner opened his eyes and squinted
at the younger man. "I've had a rotten week, and after this morning,
I don't think it's going to get any better."

"Why do you want to reassign the case?"

"It doesn't fall within the guidelines of a normal X-File."

Mulder wondered if Skinner realized how it sounded to use normal
and X-File in the same sentence. "I'd agree it's not as strange as
the type of case Scully and I handle regularly, but since I could be
one of the next targets for the killer, I think I'm in the middle of
this whether I want to be or not."

Skinner continued to squint. "I'm not suggesting you drop the
case entirely, but two other agents watching out for you might be a
good idea."

"Scully and I work better alone."

Looking distinctly unsure of that statement, Skinner rubbed the
bridge of his nose and then squinted at Mulder again. "That reminds
me. I've been alerted by a few people that you started a rumor that
you and Agent Scully were on a vacation together in Hawaii."

Mulder started, unprepared for this sudden revelation. "I hear
if you wear your glasses on your face you can see a lot better."

Putting the glasses back on his nose, Skinner pushed back his
chair and assessed Mulder. "You'd better be glad I have a sense of
humor."

"Is that what you call it?"

Skinner stood up suddenly and pointed toward the door. "Damn it
Mulder, if you don't cut the crap you can get out right now. And
don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

Realizing too late that he'd been walking a high wire and had
just fallen off, Mulder nodded. "Sorry, sir. Peg said you were
having a bad day."

Skinner put his hands on his head and tipped his head back. He
took a deep breath, then looked at Mulder. "Where's Agent Scully?"

"She's with Agent Pendrell. She was working on getting the
results of the blood tests Pendrell was running on Carl's card and my
card." Mulder went on to explain that nothing new had been detected
in the blood and that the anticoagulant had not been identified.

"At least she's doing something productive instead of coming in
my office and asking me stupid questions and starting rumors."

"I haven't asked the stupid questions yet."

Skinner sat down in his chair. "Fire one, Agent Mulder."

Mulder gestured toward the door. "Sir, I have reason to believe
that Cindy Fairchild might know more about Carl's death than she's
letting on. She didn't have an alibi for where she was when Carl was
killed. Apparently she was home by herself."

"I believe her."

"That doesn't make her innocent if you believe her, sir."

Skinner leaned forward in his chair. "It doesn't make her
guilty, either."

Mulder knew he was pushing the envelope again, so he held back
another pithy comment. "You're right. It doesn't make her guilty.
I'm keeping an open mind. Did she ever tell you she was
institutionalized for a short time because of depression?"

"She came clean on that."

"Did she explain why she depressed?"

"No." Skinner sighed. "Where is this leading Mulder? Are you
saying her depression might be causing her to send valentines written
in blood?"

"I'm not sure yet. But last night she said some things that made
me suspicious. Sir, I could use your help. Is there any way you
could provide me with access to Cindy's personnel files-"

"No," Skinner said abruptly. "Until you establish a hell of a
lot more motive and have a lot more to go on than you do now, I won't
subject Cindy to more stress than she already has."

"She won't have to know I'm checking her records--"

"No, Agent Mulder."

Feeling his own anger begin to flare, Mulder slowly stood up.
"All right, sir. But may I request that you not put any other agents
on this case? I have a feeling that this may be more of an X-File than
I first thought. What I've told you about the blood samples should
qualify as an abnormality."

Skinner seemed to contemplate this suggestion for an inordinate
amount of time, and Mulder was itching to get out of the office before
Skinner remembered he'd been sidetracked about the rumor.

"Okay, Agent Mulder. I'll leave it as is for now. But if Agent
Trevino dies, I'm putting extra agents on the job. You're going to
need the protection."

"Agent Scully can protect me, sir."

Skinner's gazed landed on Mulder, probing and curious, making him
feel like a zoo animal on exhibition.

"Will that be all, sir?" Mulder asked.

Clasping his hands, Skinner leaned on his desk. "That will be
all."

Mulder opened the door and started out.

"Agent Mulder."

Mulder turned around and looked at Skinner.

"About the rumors," Skinner said quietly and precisely.

Busted.

Playing dumb was all Mulder could do. "Rumors?"

"You and I both know you weren't on a vacation with Agent Scully.
What you do on your own time is your business. Now get out of here."

End of Part Ten

My Deadly Valentine (11/13)

FBI Headquarters
Basement
9:30am

Scully stared at the card Mulder had given her for the third time
in less than a minute. She was about ready to open the damn thing
when the door opened.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder said as he sauntered in.

"Mulder." She looked at the Valentine and sighed. If he noticed
her concentration on the as yet unopened card, he didn't say anything,
and for that she was grateful. "So what did Skinner say?"

Mulder plopped down in his chair and explained how Skinner had
wanted to take them off the case "He still doesn't believe Cindy has
anything to do with the valentines, and he won't give me access to her
personnel files."

She looked at the clock. "We don't have much time left and
practically no clues to go on. I don't like this, Mulder."

"What's not to like?"

"This whole set up. You going alone to Antoine's."

"I won't be alone. You'll be back up, remember?"

Scully felt frustration building up at Mulder's nonchalant,
unconcerned manner. "Mulder, a federal agent has been murdered and
one agent critically injured on this case. Both agents were well
trained, cautious individuals and yet look what happened to them."

He shook his head in exasperation. "Scully, who is the most
paranoid agent you know?"

"You."

"So what's the problem? I may through myself into a case, but I
don't trust anyone. Unlike Carl and Mike, I'm looking at everyone as
a suspect."

After an uncomfortable silence, she decided to drop the line of
conversation. He knew what the risks were. "At this point I guess
lunch at Antoine's will have to do."

Mulder leaned forward in his chair. "There's one chance I might
find out more about Cindy and this case before I meet Angel."

"Oh?"

"I'm meeting Peg Galley for lunch at eleven."

She felt the lurch of disappointment start in her stomach and
work its way into her body like a disease. Why should she care if he
has lunch with Peg? "When did you have time to make a lunch date?"

He stood up and began to move around the room. "I ran into her
on the way to Skinner's office. It's possible she knows more about
Cindy than Skinner does."

"And you think Cindy might have confided in Peg?"

"You got it."

"While you're having lunch with Peg, I'll go to the hospital and
see if there's any chance of talking to Mike. I'll contact you before
you meet with Angel at twelve."

She stood up to get her coat, and was acutely aware of Mulder's
scrutiny as she put the coat on.

"I think Skinner was ready to roast me on a spit, but I managed
to head him off," Mulder said. "Uh, and he said something else before
I left that was kind of interesting. I'm not sure how to take it."

She waited expectantly while he reached over to his desk and
picked up a pencil. Twirling the writing instrument in his fingers
like a baton, he gazed at the floor. When he looked at her she saw
something new in his eyes that took her by surprise. A certain depth
of feeling, a new direction that held her immobile.

"What did he say?" she asked softly.

"He heard about the rumor."

"Did you start another one? Don't tell me. We're having a wild
affair, and I'm going to have your love child."

Dropping his pencil back in the desk, he gave her a small smile
filled with possibilities. "I haven't gotten that far yet. He knew
about the vacation rumor."

Sagging back into her chair, she sighed. "Great. That's what I
was afraid of."

"But then he said something I never would have expected. He told
what we did on our own time was our business." When she didn't say
anything, he continued. "So I guess that means we can have dinner
tonight without jeopardizing our careers."

"You're assuming I'm going to dinner with you," she said, unable
to suppress a smile.

"I'm hoping," he said. "There's a big difference." He shrugged.
"In our case I'd settle for some take out."

"How romantic."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she saw that silly,
almost juvenile smile twitch across his lips.

She stood at the door to the office and made a decision. "Mulder,
you've got to stop telling rumors about us. We're already looked upon
strangely without any additional help from you."

Out with it, Dana. Let him know more about how you feel. Since
you didn't have time to get him a Valentine card this year, then show
him some camaraderie. Walking toward him, she smiled slightly, and
when she reached his chair and stood close to it, he was the one that
had to crane his neck up to see her. She put her hand on his shoulder
and savored the warm, human contact. Something she had so little of
these days.

"Since we seem to be working on this case at all hours of the day
and night, there's a good chance we'll be together during the dinner
hour. I'll pick the restaurant."

She turned to walk away, but he caught her by the wrist.
"Scully."

When she looked down on him, there was a warmth in his eyes built
by years of friendship, trail-and-error, and the bond that comes from
experiencing the most bizarre and worst in life.

"Promise me you won't pick an Italian restaurant."

Smiling slightly, she said nothing until he released her wrist,
and then she turned away.

* * *

10:35am

Scully stood by Mike Trevino's bedside and watched as the
respirator expanded and contracted with a hissing sound. The
antiseptic scent in the room was faintly nauseating, and she wished
now that she'd eaten something before she'd come to the hospital.

Mulder was right. If she kept missing meals she was going to be
a cracker butt.

The nurse stood on the opposite side of Mike's bed adjusted his
IV.

Watching over Mike reminded Scully of bad times. How many times
had Scully stood in a hospital room and watched Mulder lying in bed,
his life hanging precariously in the balance? How many days had he
waited for her to awake from the coma, never giving up hope that she
would?

As she recalled the trepidation upon which she'd looked at
Mulder's Valentine card, and at the injured fellow agent lying in this
bed, she wondered if Mulder knew how she actually felt about him as a
friend.

Friend.

We're just friends.

It sounded so good, so right. Yet, it didn't quite define their
relationship. No other companion had done for her so much, nor would
she have put her career, her life, her everything on the line for a
mere friendship the way she had done with Mulder.

Perhaps there was no way to outline it.

That word again.

Perhaps.

"Agent Scully?" The nurse fiddling with Trevino's IV had
finished and was looking at her expectantly.

"Has he regained consciousness at all, yet?" Scully asked.

"Once. I don't know if you're going to get anything out of him
until much later," the nurse said.

Scully nodded. "I didn't think so. Was there a Cindy Fairchild
in the hospital inquiring about Agent Trevino's condition?"

"Quite some time ago. But she left."

"How long ago did she leave."

"Probably about an hour ago. Said there was somewhere she had to
be."

As the nurse started to leave, Scully turned to her. "Nurse? Is
there a gift shop in this hospital?"

Outside The Tavern
10:35am

Bella was in the car.

The young woman was sure of it. As she'd been peering into the
mirror dabbing makeup on, she felt her presence, and knew she was
there before she even looked around.

"Bella," she whispered. "You in here?"

A gust of wind hit the car, and the sound of it whispering filled
the car. The young woman smiled. "I knew it was you. You're always
hiding thinking I can't see you."

The young woman chuckled, and then her attention was drawn to the
front of the restaurant. When was he going to arrive? She was
getting very impatient. Besides, all of this had to be done before he
met her at Antoine's. Everything had to be done.

"What did you say?" The young woman looked about the car as
another blast of wind rocked the car. "He's not worthy?" She looked
into the rear view mirror and put plastered a thick coating of the
cherry red lipstick on her full lips. "I know, Bella. I know.
They're all low down dirty dogs. But can't I at least have a little
fun with him before I kill him?"

End of Part Eleven

My Deadly Valentine (12/13)

The Tavern
11:15am

Red hearts, pink roses, champagne, bubble bath.

All of these things ran through Mulder's head as he arrived at
The Tavern late for his meeting with Peg. Well, the champagne might
be nice, he thought. Tonight he'd drink champagne, even if he had to
eat it with egg rolls and Teriyaki chicken. One thing he hadn't
explored in a long time was a good buzz. After his encounter with
Scully this morning in the office, when she'd come up to him and
touched his shoulder, his mind had drifted from the case to her with
disturbing regularity. Yep, getting shit faced was a distinct
possibility.

Bubble bath was not an option.

Not with Scully.

Did she ever take bubble baths?

Pushing in the swinging door to the restaurant, he was instantly
greeted by the sound of Irish music pumping loudly from the speakers.
Inside the dimly lit pub, the smoke ran in a thick blue line over the
heads of the people in the smoking section. He saw Peg sitting close
to the front in a booth and waved to her. Two tall glasses of
something pink, frothy, and refreshing looking sat on the table in
front of her.

As he arrived at the table and slid into the seat across from
her, he said, "Happy Valentine's Day. Sorry I'm late. I got tied
up at the office."

"Happy day." She lifted her tall glass and took a sip through
the pink straw before replying. "Mmm. This is delicious. I ordered
one, but it's an early two for one special in honor of Valetine's Day.
So, the other one is yours."

Mulder touched the stem of the tall glass. "Looks good. It's
non alcoholic, I hope."

"Perfectly non alcoholic. I'm a teetotaler myself. Waitress
assured me it's as harmless as a Shirley Temple."

Leaning on the table Mulder nudged the glass aside and picked up
the paper wrapped straw on the table. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, Agent Mulder."

He looked at her closely, and the twinkle in her eye made him
grin. "Watch how you say that, Peg. You'll start rumors."

"Like the ones about you and Agent Scully?" she asked, then took
a sip of her drink.

He leaned back in his seat. "You've only worked at the bureau a
short time and you've already heard those stupid rumors?"

"I made it my business to find out and Cindy told me."

After giving her a rueful smile, he blew the wrapper off his
straw and it hit the catsup bottle. "Remind me to thank her. Why
were you so curious?"

He was surprised when she blushed slightly, and the color gave
her pale skin a translucent glow. "I wanted to know more about you.
After seeing you and Agent Scully together a couple of times I thought
you might be-"

"Dating?"

"Right. But Cindy said I shouldn't listen to the rumors."

"You're absolutely right."

She stirred her drink with her straw and looked into the depths
of the pink, slushy liquid as if it were a crystal ball. "Go head,
Mulder. Fire away. You wanted to know what I know about Cindy?"

"Did she ever tell you about her murdered boyfriend?"

She didn't even looked startled that he'd asked. She turned the
glass around a couple of times. "Yes. We had lunch here one day. We
got to talking and I found out she's a complicated lady. Apparently
her boyfriend was stabbed several times through the heart and the
stomach." Peg squinted for a moment, and it reminded him temporarily
of Skinner's expression this morning. "When Agent Daggert was murdered
I got to thinking about her boyfriend's murder."

"In what way?"

She shrugged. "Well, all during the time the Valentine card
thing has been going on, her emotions have been up and down, up and
down. Sometimes she comes into the office in the morning and she's
mumbling something about her house, and not being able to sleep.
Didn't you notice the dark circles underneath her eyes?"

"No, I didn't notice." Remembering Cindy's paisley robe, Mulder
stuffed his straw in his drink and then took a long sip. Strawberry.
Definitely alcohol free. "What else do you think is strange?"

Peg took another deep draw on her drink, and Mulder mimicked her
gesture. She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Just a feeling I get,
you know? I may be young but I'm not stupid. Don't get me wrong, I
don't think she's the one who killed Agent Daggert or shot Agent
Trevino."

"I didn't say that she did."

Flipping her hair back from her face with a toss of her head, she
shook her head. "You didn't have to. You see, I'm really good at
picking up what people are thinking."

"You're psychic?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she almost choked on her drink.
Then she laughed. "Hell, no. It was the look on your face. You have
a very expressive one, Agent Mulder. I can read you like a book."

Mulder shoved his drink to the side. It was too sweet. "What am
I thinking now?"

"You don't like your drink."

"I'm impressed."

She smiled. "Any dummy could have got that one. You screwed up
your face on the last sip and shoved the glass away. Easy guess."

Enjoying her easy banter, Mulder glanced at his watch. Time was
marching on and she wasn't giving him much information. He needed to
cut to the chase. Glancing out the front window of the restaurant he
thought he saw a familiar figure on the sidewalk, peering inside the
window. But there were too many people at the front of the crowded
little restaurant, and he couldn't see. He brought his attention back
to Peg.

"What else can you tell me about Cindy?"

Looking up and to the right, Peg said, "I'm kind of worried about
the way she talks sometimes about men." She looked back at Mulder as
if to check and see if he was listening, then she glanced into the
distance again. "I remember this conversation we had one time not
long after I started work at the bureau. She said that men were low
down dirty dogs."

"A not infrequent assessment."

"I wouldn't have thought anything about it, but she said it
Tuesday, the day before Carl was killed."

Mulder looked at the pink drink he'd shoved to the side and then
thought the better of taking another sip. "Are you trying to tell me
that you think Cindy is Carl's murderer."

"I'm not sure about anything, Agent Mulder." She shrugged.
"Except one thing. She gives me the creeps sometimes."

"Has she ever threatened to harm you?"

"No."

He glanced at his watch and realized how close it was getting to
noon. He reached into his wallet and threw some money on the table.
"Peg, I hate to call this quits, but I've got that meeting at twelve.
I'll need to talk to you about this later."

She shifted to the edge of her seat and slid out of the booth as
he began to leave. "Sure, no problem. I'll walk you out with you."

He nodded as they slipped around the back of the building and
started into the car park and headed towards the elevator. As Mulder
was walking he felt a little tired. That was it for him. No more
late night pizza parties with Scully at one in the morning and then
getting up at five.

"You okay, Agent Mulder?" Peg asked as they came up to the
elevator and she punched the down arrow.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Late night."

The elevator doors opened and they got in. "What did you do?
Work all night?"

"Almost."

"Ah, Agent Mulder, would you walk me to my car?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "No problem.
Scared?"

"I hate parking lots like this with all these levels. You never
know who might be hiding around. Ugh. It's just scary."

When they got off on her floor and stepped out of the elevator,
Mulder's stomach did a sickening flip flop. Fabulous. Indigestion.

"I'm over here," she said, moving toward an old, blue classic
car.

She unlocked the car and turned towards him. "Thanks, Agent
Mulder. You're great."

The seductive smile she gave him would have intrigued Mulder, but
at that moment a wave of sick dizziness swam through him, and he had
to grab the roof of the car for support.

"Agent Mulder, you okay?" The sound of Peg's voice was faint, as
if she'd gone down a tunnel.

Alice in wonderland, he thought as his knees sagged.

Then it hit him. Oh, shit. What a time to remember the neuro
linguistic programming he'd been trained in. Peg had lied about
Cindy. Peg had looked up and to the right. This indicated that she
had been constructing visual scenes in her mind that she hadn't seen
before. Cindy had never told Peg that men were low down dirty dogs.

End of Part Twelve

My Deadly Valentine (13/13)

11:45am

Scully dialed Mulder's cell phone number and waited patiently in
her car outside of Antoine's. He should have been at Antoine's by
now. She'd gotten there earlier and expected to see him arrive and
go in the restaurant as they'd planned.

His phone rang twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

Uneasiness built behind her eyes, threatening to give her a
headache. She rubbed her eyes.

The phone rang six times, seven times, eight times. She hung up.
He always answered by the second or third ring.

Unless something was wrong. Damn! What could be the hold up?
After another five minutes of waiting with no sign of her partner,
she started the car and drove toward The Tavern.

Maybe Peg's numerous and sundry charms had made Mulder forget his
meeting with Angel at noon. She frowned. Back off, Dana. Mulder's
assignations were none of her business. Any more than her dates were
his business. Smirking to herself, she accelerated the car. As if
she'd had any dates lately for Mulder to be curious about.

Her cell phone chirped several moments later. Maybe Mulder had
revived after being mesmerized by Peg and had just realized he was
going to be late for his meeting with Angel.

"Scully."

"Dana, this is Cindy."

"Cindy? What's going on? How did you get my cell number?"

"Assistant Director Skinner. He tried to call you a few moments
ago but your line was busy. I said I'd keep trying. You need to get
to The Tavern as soon as possible."

Scully accelerated a little more, as much as she could in the pea
soap traffic in front of her. "What's happened?"

"It's Mulder. I'm watching him and Peg Galley. They're in the
parking structure behind The Tavern. She's going to kill him."

Parking Structure Behind The Tavern
11:45am

"Agent Mulder, are you all right?"

He heard Peg's voice as if it was coming from a distance, down a
long tunnel. His vision wavered, and he leaned against the car and
tried to keep his feet under him. His cell phone rang but he couldn't
maneuver his hand so that he could get the phone out of his pocket.
Scully. It had to be Scully calling. He reached for the phone in
desperation, knowing that if he passed out now he'd be at the mercy of
Peg.

Or should he call her by her nickname?

Angel.

"Don't touch that phone. Or I'll have to kill you now," Peg said
with a sickeningly sweet voice.

Mulder backed away, grabbing his gun as he stumbled and fell on
his backside. He pointed the gun in her direction.

"Angel." His own voice sounded far away and raspy. "Don't move
or I'll shoot."

"Agent Mulder, I don't think you could hit the broad side of a
barn right about now."

She laughed, and he thought a witch's cackle couldn't have been
more atmospheric or so appropriate for her state of mind. Time seemed
to stretch for Mulder, pulling him forward at a slow, almost unreal
pace. The pink drink. She must have put something in his drink.

"Maybe not, but I could sure as hell try," he said, raising the
gun and aiming directly for her midsection.

He vaguely registered that she wasn't moving any closer to him,
but he sensed her threat like a storm hovering on the horizon, or a
cobra ready to strike.

"Look, I haven't got time for this," she said. "You'll save us a
lot of time if you get in the car. We wouldn't want anyone to see us.
They might think we were having a lover's quarrel."

He swallowed hard, attempting to talk past the dry lump in his
throat. "Is that what happened to you, Peg? Did your man betray you
and now you're on a rampage to kill all men?"

She laughed again, but this time the sound was soft and deadly.
"You are kidding right? Hell, no. None of this is really my doing."

"I get it. You're going to kill me and then plead insanity?"

"Won't have to. By the time I get through everyone will think
Cindy has been killing federal agents."

"Why did you bother to tell me all those lies about her if you
were going to kill me anyway?"

He could barely see the smile that curved her lips. But the
smile never penetrated the sparkling evil that blanketed her eyes
and froze him down to the bones.

"It was fun. What better way to get revenge on you for
misleading me."

"I don't understand."

"Carl and Mike and you. All of you betrayed me, just like Bella
said you would. I gave you all my love and yet you turned me away.
Bastards! All of you! I thought you might be different. But no, all
you can do is make eyes at Agent Scully! Bella warned me. I should
have listened to her." She made a small step in his direction.

"Who is Bella?"

"The woman who haunts my house."

He tried to concentrate on her words, attempted to think of the
next question and the next. Anything to keep her talking until he
could get his equilibrium back. Hell, Mulder, he thought. Who are
you kidding? He was going to pass out any minute and then Angel could
do whatever she wanted with him. She stepped forward again.

Mulder straightened his wobbling gun. Maybe he'd shoot over her
head and it would attract attention. "I didn't betray you, Angel.
How could I? I love you."

His declaration stilled her instantly. "Love me?"

Her words were hushed, as if she listened to his words in wonder.
Keeping his gaze trained on her, he lowered his voice to the most
beguiling tone he could manage considering his mouth was dry and his
consciousness was slowly diminishing. "Would you believe Bella over
me? The man who loves you? I loved your cards, too. I was happy you
killed Carl and almost got rid of Mike. I mean, they'd have been
competition for me."

She stepped forward once again. "Then give me the gun."

"I can't do that."

"Give me the gun, damn you."

"Is that any way to talk to the man you love?"

"What do you plan to do, Agent Mulder. Shoot me?" Her voice was
low, almost beguiling. "Try it. Just try it."

"Agent Mulder might miss, Peg. But I won't."

Cindy.

He saw Angel whirl around and look at Cindy. The petite blonde
did indeed have a gun, and it was pointed right at Angel.

"You bitch!" Angel spat the words one at a time, as if she was
trying to expel a horrible taste.

"I've been called that. But not without reason. Put your hands
up and back away from Mulder before I have to prove it to you."

Angel fingered her handbag, and Mulder noticed the motion. She
had a weapon in there, he guessed. Probably the knife she'd planned
on using on him once she'd hauled him out to the field where she'd
killed Carl and shot Mike.

Mulder was amazed these thoughts had time to go through his mind,
so hazy and disjoined did he feel. Dazed to the point of
insensibility, tried to hold the gun up but felt his arm weakening.

"Angel," he said. "Listen to Cindy. She'll shoot and I'll
shoot, and then you'll be dead. You want to live, don't you? How
can we go away together if you're dead?"

She gazed at him steadily, and Mulder thought there might be a
chance she'd believe him.

"Do you really mean that?" Peg whispered.

"With all my heart." As he spoke the words he felt his nerveless
fingers release the gun and it clattered to the concrete floor. Angel
took that as her opportunity. She lunged, bringing the knife out of
her handbag in one quick, efficient move.

She hadn't believed him.

But apparently she hadn't counted on Cindy's reflexes, either.

The sound of gun fire rang out, and as Cindy's shot hit home,
lodging in Angel's shoulder, she fell to the ground in a heap a few
feet from Mulder.

"Mulder!"

With no more energy left in his drug loaded body, Mulder wasn't
sure if he'd actually heard Scully shout his name or not. Instead he
lay back on the cold concrete and let the sand man take him away.

FBI Headquarters
Basement
8:00pm

"Mulder, this is crazy. You should go home."

"I'm fine, Scully. We've got some unfinished business."

As Scully opened the door to their office, she wondered for the
hundredth time that evening if she should have refused to let Mulder
go back to the office. But, she supposed, if she had refused, he
would have called a cab and walked right out of the hospital. The
amount of drugs in his system had been significantly less than it
would have been if he'd drank more of the pink concoction at The
Tavern. Luckily, the drug had sweetened the drink to a nasty
consistency that had turned Mulder off to the taste.

She remembered with awful clarity the sound of Cindy's gun going
off and seeing Peg fall. Scully had knelt beside the unconscious form
of her partner and discovered no knife wounds or any other serious
injury. It had taken him five hours to sleep off the drug, however,
and during that time Scully had berated herself for not getting to the
scene faster. Once at the hospital and assured that Mulder was going
to recover, she visited with Mike and he was able to tell her and
Cindy that it had indeed been Peg who had called him and lured him to
the field. Apparently she'd told him that she had evidence that Cindy
was a murderer. Mike didn't believe it, but he was immediately
suspicious of Peg. He admitted to being very fond of Cindy and
becoming worried about what Peg might do to Cindy.

Once they were inside the office, Scully flipped the lights on
and Mulder put his hand over his eyes as he sauntered slowly into the
room and flopped into his chair. "God, Scully, turn that off. It's
killing my eyes."

She reached for a small table lamp and switched it on, then she
turned off the overhead light. The table lamp barely gave enough
light to see by, but she knew Mulder's headache was making him feel
awful.

As she took her coat off she said, "You should have stayed in the
hospital, Mulder."

"No way. I've spent far too much time in hospitals as it is. I
don't think I could stand another minute of Cindy and Mike making goo
goo eyes at each other." He grinned and leaned his head back.
Narrowing his gaze, he watched her sit at her desk. "Besides, I'd
think you'd get tired of visiting me in hospitals."

Turning slightly toward him she frowned. "I was right about how
dangerous this case was, Mulder."

"Go ahead. Rub it in." Running his hand of his face wearily, he
sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For reading that whole situation with Peg incorrectly. She had
me totally fooled. Hell, if it hadn't been for Cindy, I'd probably be
dead right now."

"And I'm sorry, too, Mulder."

He focused on her, watching her blue eyes turn a deep green in
the dim light. Her pretty, full lips turned down.

"About what?"

"For not being there in time."

Mulder wasn't used to seeing her wallow in self blame, and her
expression worried him. Wheeling his chair over to her, he stopped
only when his chair bumped into hers. Then he gripped the arms of
her chair and turned her to face him.

"You're always there for me, Scully."

She felt his words hang in the air, as if they were meant to be
there forever. The sound of it rang in her ears and threatened to
repeat over and over like a litany that she never wanted to forget.
Or maybe it was his damn habit of invading her personal space, or the
way he was looking at her that made her this unstable.

And his eyes held so much. They were expectant. Deeply intent.
Once again she was reminded that within his eyes lie as many truths as
there were secrets. And she wanted to discover every one of them. If
it took her a lifetime, she'd find them all.

When she didn't say anything he grinned and released the arms of
her chair. "Who would of thunk it?"

She smiled. "What?"

"Cindy Fairchild being an undercover, undercover, undercover FBI
agent."

"Very good. Can you say that three times fast, Mulder?"

"Not tonight, I have a headache."

Scully and Mulder were too tired to be angry that they'd wasted
their time suspecting Cindy. Cindy had never worked for the DIS, and
had been an FBI agent in the field for several years. Cindy had told
the truth about her own boyfriend, who had been murdered many years
ago. That case had never been solved. Scully guessed that it made
the Peg Galley case all the more compelling for Cindy to solve.

"You think Skinner will ever recover from the evil eye you gave
him after he confessed that he knew Cindy was an FBI agent all that
time?" Scully asked.

He shrugged. "If Skinner had let us in on what had happened in
the bureau offices in New Mexico, we might have been able to help.
Instead I almost got killed."

Scully, once again, didn't want to be reminded of that. She was
just grateful that Cindy was a good agent, and when she'd begun to
suspect Peg, had trailed her to The Tavern and watched as Mulder and
Peg had gone into the parking garage. Suspicious, and curious, she'd
followed at a safe distance. Lucky for Mulder.

She nodded. "You're right. As if there aren't enough secrets
already in this agency."

"There's only one secret bigger than that."

"What's that?"

"Why you haven't opened my Valentine yet?" Another silence
descended, and she smiled at him. Then he looked at her desk and
shook his head. "Scully, Valentine's Day is almost over. If you're
not going to open that card now-"

She raised a hand. "Okay, okay." She fished around in her purse.

"What are you doing?"

"I managed to get you a card while I was waiting for Mike to
regain consciousness." Sheepishly, she sighed. "Kind of tacky, I'll
admit, to wait until then to get you a card, but I didn't realize you
were going to get me anything-"

"Just hand me the card."

She pulled out a plain white envelope, and Mulder took it
eagerly, noting his name written in her flowing script on the
front of the card.

Mulder. Simple. Concrete. Straightforward.

"Go ahead, open it," she said.

A silly excitement gripped him, and suddenly he felt like a nine
year old getting a valentine from his first girl friend. Opening the
envelope, he reached in for the red card.

On the front of the valentine was a white heart and inside it
said simply, 'For My Dear Friend.' He opened it slowly and held his
breath. In black lettering she'd written her own message. 'Thank
you, Mulder, for thinking of me on Valentine's Day, and for being the
only person in this world I can count on. Forever, Scully.'

Scully didn't wait to see his reaction to her card. Somehow the
idea embarrassed her. So, she opened the envelope she'd been trying
to avoid for two whole days and held her breath as she pulled out the
red card. She smiled. It was the same card she'd gotten for Mulder.
It read, 'For My Dear Friend' on the front. On the inside he'd
written in red pen, in his bold handwriting, 'Happy Valentine's Day,
Scully. Your friendship is more important to me than anything. I
mean that. Thank you for enduring our adventures all these years.
Here's to many more X- Files together. Love, Mulder."

When she looked up at him, he didn't smile. Instead his gaze
lingered on her face, seeking, searching. The seriousness of his gaze
terrified her. But an exploration of this feeling was even more sharp,
deep.

"Mulder, this is scary."

"What are you afraid of?"

She couldn't tell him what she was really afraid of. Not yet.

"We got each other the same cards," she said. "What are the odds
of that?"

"Looks like we've got another X-File, Scully."

"God, I hope not."

Mulder slipped the card she'd given him back into the envelope,
and leaned forward in his chair so that she was forced to look at him
in very close proximity.

"We didn't get to eat that dinner we planned," he said softly.

She smiled. "Maybe next year."

"Count on it."

Agent Dana Scully's Case Log #91

Margaret (Peg) Angel Galley, twenty four years old, was found to
be not guilty for the murder of Special Agent Carl Daggert and the
attempted murder of Special Agent Mike Trevino by reason of insanity.
Special Agent Fox Mulder was not seriously injured and will have no
lasting ill effects from the drugs he consumed unknowingly as the
result of Miss Galley's attempt to kidnap him. On further examination
of Miss Galley, it was discovered that she was extremely iron
deficient, although that this has any bearing on her behavior seems
unlikely. She frequently suffers from being cold, and while she
claims this is because of the presence of a ghost, it is this agent's
suggestion that the iron deficiency might account for her feeling of
being cold.

Peg would not admit to using blood to write the Valentine cards.
Although no evidence of cuts on her own body could be found that would
suggest she was using her own blood, further tests revealed it was her
blood used to write the letters on the card.

A determination on what the anticoagulant substance detected in
the blood was, has never been finalized. More study may be warranted.

Miss Galley was admitted to Brecksman Medical Facility in
Virginia, where she will remain for the rest of her life.
Psychiatrists have been unable to determine diagnose the exact
affliction from which she suffers. Until Miss Galley moved to the
Washington DC area there is not record of her suffering any form of
mental illness. She has no parents or siblings or other relatives
alive that might shed some light on her condition.

A combination of personality and paranoia type disorders will no
doubt be found to have contributed to her delusional state. Peg
claimed during the trial that she was being possessed by the spirit of
a woman who inhabited her home. Agent Mulder investigated her claims
and was able to discern that in 1885 a woman by the name of Arabella
Katherine Spring had indeed lived in the house Miss Galley now rents.
Mrs. Spring stabbed her husband to death after discovering that he was
having an affair.

Subsequent investigations into the house where Peg says she heard
the voice of Bella ordering her to kill, reveal that no less than ten
murders have been committed at the same location over the more than
hundred year span since Arabella murdered her husband on Valentine's
Day, 1885.

THE END

--
Denise A. Agnew